Concentration
by Walker in the Rain
Summary: All it took was one bullet,and he was all their's. A mission gone wrong may mean life or death for Gary.
1. No man left behind

My lungs burned as we raced across grim covered roofs, feet slamming on hard concrete and flimsy, rattley metal sheets as we sprinted to the extraction point. MacTavish glanced back at me, making sure I was still with them. I was starting to wish that fear would give in to adrenalin so I could focus on running instead of the steep drops off the slippery sun soaked roofs.

Sunlight beat down on my face, threatening to blind me as I jumped over a chain holding a sheet of metal over a hole in the roof.

"My friend, from up here, it looks like the whole village is trying to kill you!" exclaimed Nikolai, his rough Russian accent carrying over the radio's static crackle.

"Yeah tell me something I don't know! Just get ready to pick us up!" yelled MacTavish, irritated, as the faint whir of helicopter blades grew steadily louder. Not much further.

Ghost and Rocket took up the lead, sprinting as hard and fast as they could, the huge bulking form of the Pavelow coming into view, hovering above a single lone building. My relief quickly turned to fear as I spotted the huge gap between the buildings. Angry shouts in Portuguese grew louder as the group of militia chased us.

"We're running out of roof top!" yelled Ghost, slowing in pace for a few seconds to examine the jump, analyzing just how far he needed to leap so he wouldn't tumble off the roof with the slanted slippery metal sheets.

"We can make it! GO GO GO!" yelled back MacTavish, just as Ghost and Rocket took the leap.

Ghost landed, absorbing the impact with his legs like a cat would. Rocket however, landed on all fours, starting to slip off the roof to the alley below. Ghost reached out instinctively, grasping the blonde mans wrist, hauling him upright, helping him regain his footing.

MacTavish gave a grunt before launching himself off the roof. Everything seemed to slow down. His body twisting through the air as he got ready for the impact of the landing. The rhythmic thud thud of the rotor blades. The steady woosh of air entering my lungs. I can do this. I can do this.

My muscles strained as I threw myself into the air. I felt the hot air ruffle through my brown hair. The distant scream and jeers of the militia. And my feelings of reckless elation and fear turn to pure terror as I realized I hadn't jumped far enough.

I gasped as I slammed into the side of the building; a jagged corner of metal cut into my side as my hands desperately scrabbled for purchase.

MacTavish turned, horrified as he dove for me, eyes filled with sharp determination, his hand reaching for mine. I felt the roof slip from my grasp, fear overcoming my senses as I tumbled to the ground. Then nothing.

'ROACH! The voice blended with the staggering pain which erupted in my head. I gave a groan, and squinted through my eyelashes, a flash of white hot pain erupting from behind my eyes. I opened my eyes completely, blinking through the painful haze, trying to clear my head.

"Roach! Wake up!" yelled MacTavish. His loud voice felt like it was splitting my skull in half. I stumbled as I tried to stand up, gripping the side of a building for support. Shouts echoed around the alley. Militia.

My blood turned cold as the shadows of a large chanting mob bearing guns crawled up the wall at the end of the street.

"Roach! We can see them from the chopper! They're coming for you! Dozens of 'em," yelled Ghost, his voice shaking with panic.

More militia appeared on the roof to my left, their guns in the air as they chanted.

"There's too many of them! Get the hell out of there and find a way to the rooftops! MOVE!"

A bullet hissed past my head, and that was all the invitation I needed. I bolted through the open door in front of me as more bullets whizzed around me, shattering picture frames and shattering the windows. An old television exploded, spraying me with tiny fragments of glass. I dodged through the tiny house, breathing in the thick air in deep heavy gasps, the smell of stale trash making my eyes water.

"Roach we're circling the are but I can't see you. You've got to get to the roof tops," urged MacTavish, his voice shaking.

I ran into another back alley, charging down a flight of stairs. A man at the bottom held his hands over his head gave me a terrified glance before he fled into his house. More stairs led up to another house. It sounded like the militia was falling behind in my crazed sprint to the rooftops, but I didn't slow my pace. I knew I was dead if I stopped.

I dashed into another house and raced up some more steps towards bright white sunlight.

The Pavelow roared overhead, as MacTavish yelled, "I see you! Jump down to the rooftops and meet us south of your position! GO!"

"Gas is very low! I must leave in thirty seconds!" said Nikolai, panic evident in his voice as I jumped over a small crevice, slipping slightly on the hot tin roof.

"Roach we're running of fumes here! You've got thirty seconds RUN!"

More militia charged after me, emerging on the other side of wire fences and emerging from balconies, sights aimed at me. My breathing was ragged and it felt like each breath scoured out my lungs.

"Fifteen seconds!" Nikolai counted down.

The chopper came into sight once again, hovering in front of the balcony of a house to my left. The side door was open, revealing MacTavish and Ghost, anxiously watching my crazed chase across the rooftops.

A sound like the crack of a whip ripped through the air. A sudden piercing agony ran though my shoulder. I stumbled and fell, landing spread eagled on the metal sheets of the roof.

"ROACH!" screamed Ghost. I glanced at the helicopter, and watched helplessly as Ghost had to be restrained by MacTavish as he tried to launch himself off it to help me.

"Bingo fuel my friend! We must leave," shouted Nikolai, pulling away from the balcony, a jet ladder swaying underneath it.

I gave the helicopter one last fleeting glance, Ghost collapsing to the floor in despair, MacTavish staring at me horrified with Rocket at his side. A single tear rolled down my cheek, mingling with sweat and blood as I watched my team leave.

Chattering in Portuguese behind grabbed my attention. I felt a foot tentatively rolled me slightly, in the same way that you'd check if an animal were dead. I groaned slightly, pain shooting up my arm. Another man chattered away, his words followed quickly by an outburst of giggles.

Without warning, I was yanked up by my hair, a yelp escaping my throat as I was brought face to face with one of the militia. His brown eyes sparkled with delight, his lips curled into a sadistic smile. I was unarmed, unaided and ass deep in alligators. Shit.

"tomar o soldado javiar ele vai gostar de saber que responsável por essa bagunça" the enemy militia said, his breath making me gag. He stepped back before slamming his worn boot into my face.

_THERE YOU GO! Finally was able to update this story…..and if you didn't guess, this is the mission 'hornet's nest' AND THANK YOU SO MUCH TO MY W.O.N.D.E.R.F.U.L BETA Dunedain789

Leave a review and ill try to get back to you please NO FLAMES LEAVE A REVIEW! I don't always have acess to a computer so just fyi updates may be anywhere form once to three a week? Ohh and the milita soldier is saying "take the soldier to javiar he'll like to know who responsible for this mess" so ill try to update again today, if not it will have to be in about four days when I have a computer again so tata! Review!


	2. Liana Coctail

I woke up with a start as ice-cold water splashed my face, my body jolting upwards with fright.

"Levante-se!"

I flinched, the yell reverberating and magnifying around the damp concrete walls.

Footsteps echoed around the room, as two rough calloused hands grabbed my upper arms. I yelped, struggling to get away as fingers dug into the gunshot wound in my shoulder.

Both pairs of hands lost their grip on my water soaked skin, as I bolted towards the door, astonished shouts behind me. I glimpsed a shot gun held high, in a club-like grip before it smashed into my head, sending me sprawled to the damp, mildew covered floor.

I heard the fait click of handcuffs as they restrained my arms, my head swimming, barely conscious.

"Que diabos você estava fazendo! Ele quase foi embora!"

I was dragged to my feet once more, this time by the handcuffs, cold hard steel cutting into my wrists. I blinked through the confusing sounds of arguing behind me, still dazed, trying to bring my world into focus. The hard metal barrel of a gun was shoved forcefully into my back as a hand grabbed my hair, pulling my head back.

"Avançar" hissed a voice in my ear, throwing me forward. I stumbled but regained my balance. Someone grabbed the handcuff chain and I found myself being dragged sideways through a maze of narrow corridors,

Faint wisps of bright light dashed across the walls here and there. Green slime oozed out of the walls, the occasional blood splatter decorating the cells with a dry cracked and crispy brown. The smell of blood, old death and stale rotten food made my stomach turn.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through my mouth, slowing my panicked gasps to a slow rhythmic exercise. Instead of the loud echoing jeers of guards and the occasional shriek of a prisoner, I focused on that calming rhythm. In… out. In… out.

Bright white light pierced my eyelids just before I was tossed to the ground again, landing on my face, my hands still cuffed behind me. With a groan, I rolled to my side, taking in my surroundings. Instead of the sticky walls and dust-covered concrete, there was polished white tiles and bright white walls. It looked as sterile as a plastic bubble, bright halogen lights shining of the glimmering marble counter tops and a shining steel sink.

A single gleaming steel bench was the in the middle of the room, large enough for a man to lie on. In each corner of the bench, dark brown leather bindings stuck out in loops, each held together by a metal buckle clasps. A small silver table with wheels was next to the bench, a fluffy white towel resting on the top, bulging slightly.

"Cinta-lo sobre a mesa" ordered a voice, as I was dragged over to the bench. Before it could even register, I was lifted into the air by two burly men, and dumped on the cold metal table. I kicked out forcefully with my legs, catching the man trying to tie down my legs in the nose. He gave a startled yell, staggering back, his hand covering his face, blood dribbling down his chin.

"Você não pode fazer nada direito?" shouted another voice, someone else running forward and seizing my legs. I yelled out in frustration, struggling against the leather restraints as they tied up my wrists and ankles.

"Deixe-nos!"

The militia turned and marched out the door without a word. An uncomfortable silence filled the room, the only sound was the faint creaking of leather as I tugged helplessly against my restraints, my shoulder throbbing dully and I pulled.

"That won't help you."

I froze. The voice was not the expected rough grunt of a man. Instead it was silky, nearly touchable whisper of a woman. My eyes darted around the sterile room, searching for the speaker. I heard gentle click of high heels behind me before a tiny smooth hand brushed against my cheek. My breath hitched and I instantly recoiled from the touch. A high melodious laugh filled the room.

"You are precious," she giggled, moving to stand to my left.

Crow black hair fell to her shoulders in gentle waves, her eyes a sparkling dark brown. A long lab coat covered most of her clothes, ending just below her knees. Petit feet were strapped into a pair of elegant black high heels.

She smiled pleasantly down at me, before moving to the small roller table, unfolding the fluffy towel to reveal a set of sparkling metal tools. A pool of icy terror settled in the pit of my stomach. They wanted information and they were prepared to torture me for it.

She picked up a scalpel experimentally, holding it up to one of the halogen lights. She noticed me watching her, my hazel eyes wide with fear, and smirked.

"Now. We can do this the easy way of the hard way," she announced, stalking back over to me, swaying her hips as she walked, scalpel in hand. "So. My name is Liana. What's yours?"

I glared at her, bawling my hands into fists, trying to convert my fear into anger.

Liana gave a dramatic sigh, before plunging the scalpel into my thigh. I screamed out, the pain immediate, flashing through me like fire. My mind was blank, the world a white haze of pain.

I tried to focus on my irregular breathing, instead of the scalpel, which was, buried hilt deep in my leg.

"Your name?" she repeated calmly, her voice pleasant. A strangled groan escaped my throat. She gazed at me, the way a cat would a bird. Amused, twisted.

"Fuck you," I growled.

She laughed again, a rich velvety sound, which rubbed against my skin.

"Do you practice the laugh or is it just a natural talent?" I asked irritated, sounding braver than I felt. Or was it just foolishness?

She moved away from me, swaying over to the sparkling white counters, which lined the walls. A vest and an assortment of weapons lay on it, dull matt black and familiar. It was our standard issue equipment. Mine.

She grabbed my knife, pulling it out of its black leather sheath. The blade was stained brown with dried blood from the favela chase. I remembered how I had plunged into the chest of the man who had tackled MacTavish. His brown eyes wide as he tried to make sense of what happened, falling backwards, landing on the dusty ground with a soft muffled thump.

I swallowed back bile, the grating cold metal of the scalpel causing the muscles in my leg to twitch horribly.

She picked up my bulletproof vest, examining the hole in the shoulder strap with interest before turning back to me, a smirk curled on her face.

"What are the 141?"

I stared back at her, trying to hide the panic, which clawed at my throat.

"Fuck. You. Whore," I snarled, tugging my hands against the leather straps.

She walked back over to me, her eyes cold and indifferent, the blood-splattered knife in hand. She raised the knife and brought it down, as I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth against the pain that was sure to follow.

Instead, I heard the sound of ripping cloth, my eyes snapping open to find her ripping my grey wet shirt to shreds with the knife. Her eyes gleaming with a sadistic form of amusement.

She climbed onto the bench and straddled my hips, careful not to disturb the scalpel. She lowered her face to mine, as if to kiss me. I quickly turned my face away, disgusted. I didn't want her to kiss me. She was a sick twisted monster.

"I don't want to scar that pretty face of yours," she whispered into my ear. I felt my heart beat speed up and stared at her in horror. She had an almost alluring smile, fingers tracing the bone white scars that trickled over my chest. Her fingers pressed against the cut in my side, slowly adding more pressure to the open wound until I cried out in pain.

She reached up and almost motherly, brushed away a stray lock of damp hair that fell across my eyes. The illusion abruptly ended as she brought my knife in front of my face, softly caressing my cheeks with the cold metal.

"Who are you?"

I shook my head. A flash of white iron slashed across my cheek. I gasped at the sharp pain. Hot crimson blood welled up and spilled over my face, cascading onto the shiny bench, thick and wet.

Liana repositioned the knife over the bridge of my nose; drawing it across my skin in an agonizingly slow deep cut, tearing into muscle, grating bone.

"GARY!" I cried out before the knife was abruptly pulled away.

"See that wasn't so bad," she crooned, her eyes alight with malice, whilst mine where starting to cloud with the blood that ran down my face, slowly coagulating. "Now. The 141. What is it?"

She could have my name. It was unimportant. But there was no way in hell I was selling out my team. They could torture me all they wanted but I was not betraying the 141, MacTavish and Ghost. Their face's flashed before my eyes, eyes wide with horror as they watched me fall. Ghost's scream of 'ROACH!' echoing through my mind. I would die for my team before I even thought about selling them out.

The distant shouts of Portuguese pulled me back into the present, memories replaced by a wave of sharp pain and terror.

The metal door into the room smashed open, Liana almost toppling off me with fright. Like a child being caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

A big burly man with cropped brown hair stormed into the room, furious.

"O que você está fazendo? Makarov quer que ele ileso!" shrieked the man.

"Eu estava a interrogá-lo Javier! Makarov não se importa se ele está quebrado" replied Liana, looking fearful. Swallowing audibly.

"Ele quer usá-lo você mulher estúpida! Agora saia antes de eu te matar você mesmo!" shouted the man. He looked murderous. His dark skinned face contorted in rage

The woman promptly climbed off me, wrenching the scalpel from my leg. I yelled with pain, wet blood spilling over the skin. The man moved towards the woman, furious. She yelped and ran from the room, dropping the blood smeared blade with a metallic clatter, before he was even within ten feet of her. His gaze followed her until she was fully out of hearing range.

Blood seeped through my black cargo pants, trickling down around my leg in little crimson rivulets, darkening the fabric with its magenta sheen.

"I am Javier," said the man, turning his cold blue eyes on me. He had a solid build, the kind that develops after years of hard work. I stayed silent, feeling my conscious ebb away with blood loss.

He moved over to me, his face contorted in disgust as he surveyed me. "I would kill you myself, but Makarov has requested we keep you alive for him."

I was swaying in and out of reality, blinking thickly though the pressing fatigue that washed over me.

"No," I murmured, barely able to keep the man in focus.

"Well that's not up to you now is it soldado?" he smirked at my protest.

"começá-lo pronto para o transporte" he ordered in Portuguese.

He gave me one last glance before turning and smashing through the door. He yelled an indistinct order as he left. A small weedy man tottered into the room, a white lab coat and surgical mask on.

I jerked away as he closed a gloved hand around my bicep, a syringe in hand. The liquid inside sloshed slightly with his movements before he brought it down to my arm. I struggled and tried to jerk away but the restraints left little room for maneuvering and fatigue left my movements weak , he injected the substance quickly like a skilled medic. My arm burned as the substance coursed through my veins, the world around me becoming no more than a blur.

I toppled over the edge of sleep, the bright halogen lights, the clink of metallic tools and sharp smell of anti-bacteria gel disappearing in a whirl of black.

Thank you so much for those who added me to your favorites and reviewed, but again A SPECIAL THANKS TO Dunedain789 WHO HELPED ME WITH MY HORRENDOUS WRITERS BLOCK! YOU'RE THE BEST BETA! Anyways I got readers now…..i look like a college student according to my dad…ugh I feel like a dork but oh well at least I can see way better….stupid how I can see fantastic far away but NOOOOO I cant see up close worth a damn….anyways you know the drill review please?i saw that approximately 50-up people read this story , and out of that I have four reviews and three favorites…..REALLY? gosh please review, I cannot by any other means understand what needs improving or what you guys as readers would like to see this fic turn into…..anyways yah that little fact just made my DAY!(insert sarcasm) anyways please like I said …..although I WISH I could READ MINDS…I CANT! I will try to post more….read and review!


	3. Regrets

"GO BACK!" Ghost screamed at Nikolai as MacTavish desperately wrestled with the younger man, legs slipping on the smooth metal of the floor of the chopper, the rubber soles worn to the trim on his boots.

"We can't just leave him!" the Englishman shouted, growing more frantic in his movements as MacTavish restrained him further by putting him in a headlock. Rocket backed away quickly as Ghost flailed about the helicopter, trying to jump out and rescue their fallen comrade, despite the fact that if he jumped he would die. But right now, Ghost didn't care; his only goal was to rescue the brown haired, hazel-eyed recruit he had grown to love as a brother.

"Ghost we can't go back!" yelled back MacTavish, struggling to hold onto the younger man who yelled incoherently, pulling against the Captain's arms. "I don't want to leave him either but we have no choice!" shouted MacTavish, his voice cracking as he fought against tears. Thoughts flew through his head making him feel dizzy, threatening to tear him apart. Why couldn't he have caught him? He should have seen Roach slip. If he had moved faster he could have caught him and Roach would still be with them, joking about another miraculous escape from death. But he wasn't here. His luck had run out. They had to go back for him. If they didn't MacTavish had failed not just as Roach's friend, but also as his Captain. Fear and anxiety burned in his stomach, at the thought that they would be too late.

Nikolai glanced back at MacTavish. The burly man's head was hung in shame. Although he tried to hide it in his stiff stance the loss of his comrade was ripping him apart as much as it was the man with the balaclava, who fought against his grip. MacTavish had a haunted look in his eyes, an all too familiar expression. Nikolai had seen it five years ago when he had helped airlift him back to camp after Zakhaev killed his entire SAS unit. He had healed fine physically, but watching his team, his brothers die, had destroyed a part of him.

Rocket ran a shaky hand through his oily short-cropped hair, small grains of dirt and debris falling loose to the metal floor of the helicopter.

"We'll go back for him right?" he asked with a shaky voice, his breathing slightly labored from the roof top chase, the adrenalin, the rush of battle.

"No one get's left behind," replied MacTavish in a hollow voice, releasing Ghost from the chokehold. He watched as the lieutenant gave the door a fleeting glance before sitting down, furthest away from MacTavish and Rocket. He sat down with a defeated posture, jostling in his seat, holding his head in his hands. His breathing was haggard, emotions welling up in great waves of anguish.

"We land in five minutes my friend, buckle up" announced Nikolai, the click of belts drowned by the dull roar of the engine.

The green blue of the sea ridged by the creamy white shore slowly came into view, through the window on the Pavelow. The faint shapes of buildings were visible through the thick forest of palm trees. The base camp of the 141. Several bulky ships lay anchored in the dock to the north along with bulking shadows from two submarines.

Nikolai aimed for a single black patch of tarmac labeled with a faded white H, surrounded by a circle of tropical plants. He quickly descended from the dizzying height landing on the ground with a slight bump, the wind from the blades causing the frail banana trees to sway.

MacTavish ripped the metal door open, squinting against the blinding white light and the dust kicked up by the slowing rotary blades. He launched himself out of the helo, muttering "Thanks" to Nikolai before walking off towards the barracks. He wanted to be alone in his room. He didn't want his men to see him fall to pieces. However, a man with sandy coloured hair blocked his way, a grim smile on his face as he regarded his Captain.

"Something happen?" asked the man worried, glancing over MacTavish's shoulder towards the helicopter where Ghost and Rocket were now emerging.

MacTavish gave him a cold look before gruffly answering, "Royce and Meat are dead and Roach was captured."

The man looked surprised, his eyes clouding over with sadness. He had been good friends with Royce and Roach. He opened his mouth, but closed it again when no noise came out.

"Is there something you needed to tell me Archer?" asked MacTavish, wanting nothing more than to hide in his bedroom and forget about that last glimpse of Roach, lying on the corrugated iron roof, scared, defeated, abandoned.

"Shepherd wanted to see you sir. He's in your office," Archer said in nothing more than a whisper, his voice strained. He could tell he was fighting back tears.

MacTavish gave him nod, before dodging around him, heading in the direction of his office. He didn't look back at Ghost or Rocket, as he strode over the mud-cracked path, through the pointed leaves of the coconut palms. Heat rose off the ground in waves, the faint whiff of sea salt and bull kelp clinging to the air.

While he walked, MacTavish focused on the faint steady beating of waves that echoed through the trees and the rhythmic sound of his footsteps to calm himself. He was about to speak to General Shepherd, and he needed to have a clear head to do it. He didn't need his superior saying he was unfit to lead his team when he had to plan a rescue mission for Roach. He knew that Shepherd wouldn't spare a second thought for Roach. He was just cannon fodder to him. A necessary sacrifice in the fight against terrorism. The thought of Roach being considered expendable made MacTavish bawl his hands into fists in anger.

No. He couldn't afford to get upset. He needed to state what was what and get out. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him when he was talking to Shepherd. He held his breath for a while, letting it go in a controlled gust as he reached for his door handle, entering the cool, air-conditioned interior of his office.

He stood there for a while, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the office. Eventually he focused on a tall balding man with a handle bar moustache who stood beside a dark polished mahogany chair in front of his desk. He quickly closed the door behind him, saluting the man.

"At ease MacTavish. Glad to hear you made it out of Rio," said Shepherd, gesturing to the seat behind the desk.

"Thank you sir," murmured MacTavish, quickly moving to his seat, "We believe we know how to smoke out Makarov."

"Oh?"

"There's a man locked up in a Gulag, on the eastern coast of Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky. He's called prisoner 627. Apparently Makarov really wants him dead."

Shepherd looked genuinely interested at the information. "I'll get my boys to look into it and get back to you as to our plan of attack," he said thoughtfully. His grey eyes regarded the Scottish Captain, scrutinizing him. MacTavish shifted uncomfortably under the gaze. Although Shepherd had never done anything to him, he felt distrustful of the general. Despite that he still showed him respect.

"Something's bothering you MacTavish," stated Shepherd finally, resting his head on his hand.

MacTavish heaved a sigh, "Two good men were killed today and one was taken captive."

Shepherd blinked with recognition. "A necessary sacrifice in war MacTavish."

"Sir, I would like to propose a rescue mission for Sergeant Gary Sanderson," stated MacTavish, looking uncertainly into Shepherd's wrinkled severe face. "They may gain information from Sanderson I'd rather they didn't have," pressed MacTavish hurriedly, noticing the brewing anger under the general's demeanor.

"Out of the question MacTavish," growled Shepherd. "You are to focus on taking out Makarov. Sergeant Sanderson knows how to withstand torture. I will not risk the lives of the 141 on a fool's errand."

MacTavish's stomach clenched with the word 'torture', horrific images of Gary, bloody and broken flooding his mind. An echo of a nameless scream filled his head. He quickly scrunched his eyes shut to block out the thoughts, massaging his temples with his fingers.

"Sir…he could talk, they could gain information" MacTavish argued back, although he knew Gary wouldn't sell out his men. It was a losing battle trying to convince Shepard into allowing a rescue mission.

The squeak of a chair on wood filled the room as Shepherd stood up. "I'll contact you tonight about what we're going to do about prisoner 627, we'll talk about Sanderson later" he muttered, opening the heavy wood door and closing it behind him with a soft click.

MacTavish robotically stood up and closed the venetian blinds, casting the room into dim twilight, and moved to lock the door to the office. After hearing the satisfying metallic click, he slid down the door, collapsing on the floor in a heap. He held his head in his hands, letting the tears flow freely, a sob tearing past his throat. He felt like a failure. As a captain and a friend. Images of Gary being tortured filled his mind again, his face contorted with agony. Dying.

MacTavish would go back for Gary, with or without Shepherd's orders. He knew the 141 would follow even if he didn't ask them to. Roach was well liked in the team, which seemed to be held together by more of a family bond than just a simple camaraderie.

* * *

A frost permited the early morning air, sending chills into MacTavish as he sat on the edge of a Little Bird, a Barret .50 cal in hand. Ghost sat next to his left, the Englishman hadn't spoken to anyone in the team in four days, ever since Gary was left.

A strong twinge of guilt stirred in his stomach. He took a long drag on his cigar, hoping the nicotine would calm his nerves.

Two F-15 Eagles cruised ahead, the pilots heads barely visible in the cockpit of the combat jets. The roar of both helicopter and jet engines was almost deafening. Cold salt water permeated the air.

Shepard had given the go ahead to free 627. MacTavish mentioned Gary's rescue to the General once again, desperate to save the young recruit, his little brother. Shepard had just shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and said that he had a team coming into base to do the mission. Expendable as he put it.

MacTavish didn't give a rat's ass who Shepard sent. He was going in with them, weather they liked it or not.

* * *

And there you go next chapter ! ahhh so sorry this chapter took forever, again I don't always have access to a computer…THANKS Dunedain789 best beta ever! Anyways you know the drill read and review, feel free to ask questions or anything really, I'll try to get back to you when I have a computer again thanks to all who have reviewed and added me to favorites! Tata! Oh also for those of you who enjoy good music I highly recommend listening to Shiny Toy Guns (songs: Le Disko, Stripped, Rainy Monday) ahhh I'm being weird anyways I just felt like recommending them okay now I'm done for sure Tata!


	4. PhenobabitalB

I didn't know how long I was out, but when I came to the cut in my side was throbbing with a vengeance. I could still feel Liana's slim fingers playing in the wound, a childish gleam in her brown eyes.

I was reminded of the cut on my face when I winced, it burned and reopened slightly, crimson rivulets slowly falling down my face. I hissed and pressed a hand over my cheek. It was puffy, swollen. But amongst all my aches and pains, my leg was the worst; I could still feel Liana driving the scalpel into my thigh. The muscles tearing as the blade ran through them, panic rising into my throat at the memory.

A chair was bolted to the floor in the middle of the room, restraints and cuffs hanging loosely from its metal frame. My mind still felt slightly hazy from the drugs. A cloudiness drifted in front of my eyes, sometimes fading, but never fully dissipating.

The walls weren't covered in green ooze, instead of concrete they looked plastered, painted a dull shade of white. The ground was concrete instead of dirt. Splotches of auburn covered the floor a slight smell of copper in the air. Blood. Painting a scene of someone else's pain. A woman's piercing scream echoed in my mind. There was no way of telling where the sound was originating, but she was obviously in pain.

It felt like hours had passed before the screams stopped. Footsteps echoed outside my cell, they stopped sharply, and I watched in fear as the metal bolt on the door slid open with a clank. Metal hitting metal.

I swallowed down my fear as the door swung open, A vast hallway with metal shackles hanging on the wall, rust stains running down the otherwise clean concrete. Hinting that whatever building I was in had some years behind it.

In the doorway stood three men, two of them were easily taller and bulkier than MacTavish. The third man was about the size of Archer, easily bulkier than I was but almost the same height; he was maybe a inch or two taller. He stood between the two goliaths, a brown bag in hand. The leather bulging against its contents. His white apron and surgical mask were covered in blood splatter, fresh too given the bright glossy appearance it held.

They reeked of cheap cigars, even cheaper than the one MacTavish smoked every now and then.

"Poluchitʹ yego gotovym dlya menya" the masked man said to the two mammoths of men.

My heart rate quickened as they converged on me. I panicked scrambling backwards on hands and heels to get away. The one tall as Archer; Blonde and seemed to be in his late thirties grabbed my wrist with a envious strength, hauling me swiftly to my feet and slammed me back into the cold steel chair.

I hissed as the wound in my side hit the arm rest, swallowing hard despite the nausea that kept coming and going.

The blonde one held me pinned to the chair as the other man strapped me down, despite my futile attempts to get away.

The man dressed in the surgical gear walked around me, the two brutes stood of to the side guarding.

He stopped when he came back around to face me. His eyes held mine for a few moments before he looked into the bag that he carried in his hand and pulled out a syringe full of a clear liquid. My heart skipped a beat as he came closer; a smile more sadistic than Liana's formed on his wrinkled face.

"You know what this is soldier… I doubt you will like it" he said a Russian accent hung thick in his voice.

I swallowed hard hopping to suppress my fear. I hated needles, not so much the prick, but the drugs they usually contained. I glared harder at the man in response.

He chuckled softly "Ahhh you won't be so silent in a few moments, you see this is Phenobabtibal-B, C.I.A. grade stuff, it will make you talk" He moved the needle close to my arm and I flinched as it broke the skin, the cold liquid tingling my arm.

It didn't take long before I started feeling strange. My head spun, colors danced and mingled everywhere, and the need to move was unbearable.

"Now we'll start off easy, what's your name?"

"G..hmmmpf" I stopped myself I wanted to tell him so bad, to please his requests. Something told me not to, but I did anyways.

"Gary" I said, finding it hard to catch my breath. What was going on?

"Don't fight it soldier, the more you do the easier you talk, not that it matters any" the man said his voice echoed like bells in my head, repeating over and over. I squeezed my eyes shut hard... something was wrong, I couldn't remember exactly what but something told me not to tell this man anything.

"Now Gary, who do you work for?" he asked

"People" I said snickering.

"What's so funny Gary?" he asked his voice cold and demanding.

The colors seemed to darken with his words, turning from a array of blue and pink to gray and black. I blinked several times but they didn't vanish. What was going on?

"I feel funny" I mumbled my head rested against the back of something cold, something damp ran down my cheek but I couldn't tell what it was.

"Fuck I gave him too much, Erin, Galvin the little shits all yours see if you can't get something out of him. If you do tell me, if not have fun" The man said stepping away and vanishing into the colors.

Something hard and solid hit my face, causing pain quickly before everything vanished.

* * *

Ahhh so yah finally updated sry it sux! Long stressful month for me sry I know I promised a wayyy earlier update but life got in the way! Ahhh I will start trying to post cool coments and what not on my next chapter but uh hive gota get some sleep! Ahh so sry this is sweet and short! If u can't tell gary is drugged, its hard writing when the only thing I know is the drugs they give you for molar removal and putting u to sleep for surgery,,, so I tried and felt like it sucked but oh well. Anyways phenobabital b is real, google it. If none of this coment makes any sense I blame it on lack of sleep! Anyways! Tata leave a review or comment or critique can't fix anything if u don't tell me!

REEEEVEEIWWWW for garys sake? gohst?soap? they luv u!(only if u reveiw)


	5. Strength

"Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil. Courage is a mean with regard to fear and confidence." Aristotle

* * *

One.

Carried sharply. Dipping and twisting. Contorting. The sea mist would rise upon the breaking of an crescent wave, frothy salt water tossing it's scent into the humid air. Only to lash against cement breakers worn by the years of torment the Pacific waters bared upon it, dried sea salt crusted into the industrial solid, standing out a brilliant white before being swallowed up by black waters once again, slowly washing off and away. Palms swayed, veering close to a dangerous dance, unstable. Wood could be heard creaking not far from the storm touched shore. A worn down mansion. Once home to a cartel king, killed in his prime by his own. Another mans treasure became everyone's at one point. For the 141 it couldn't be more true.

Blue eyes, cold, lifeless looked out towards the coming storm. The man mirrored that fierce icy stare. Serena let her silvery rays dance across the bare chest. Sharpening in detail every muscle plane, small crescents danced with each abdominal muscle.

Their waltz unmoving like the statuesque man. Tanned skin graced her silver light highlighting each and every one of his many pale scars, harshening his cold beauty. With black shadows cast under the piercing eyes, dwelling along the defined but slightly sunken in cheekbones highlighted by the Moons silver kiss.

He couldn't have looked more beautiful or fearsome. His thoughts were nothing and everything all at once. Images, laughter, memories, he couldn't escape the young mans memory. 'Gary' his heart twisted and sunk he felt as if he had failed the young man. What he wouldn't give to know at least if Gary was okay. But part of him. The cold calculating, part; knowing reality of a soldier and captive all too well, barring the proof each day he breathed and each day until his last breath he would breathe. He cringed another memory, another stab to the heart. 'Gary is dead' the Reaper told him.

That scarred up ghost, that tortured soul, that lost heart, all it knew was pain, fear, and death. But Ghost was stronger than his own ghosts.

He was a badder death dealer than the Reaper was. He lived for death, he fought against it and for it.

He was more of a lost soul than Casper. Not knowing what to do, to think, to feel. Pathetic.

But most of all he was more alive.

He was a fighter. He trained, molded, and created fighters. He had taught Gary many things. The young man always eager to learn them. Most of all he taught him willpower, he didn't need to speak it to the young man, no. He lived. And that was all the proof Gary had ever needed. Gary was a fighter.

His glances of wonder and admiration never went unnoticed. He remembered the look in Gary's green eyes when he had told him why he wore the mask. Why he was as he was. Gary never added his two cents into the story, but his eyes did all the speaking and ever since Ghost saw the admiration in those green orbs. He couldn't help but feel something for Gary. A bond, a true bond between brothers. He missed those eyes, eager and sometimes intimidating in their truthfulness. They way the kids laugh would just lighten the mood in a bad situation. His horrid jokes, hell he missed the kids obnoxious nature.

What he wouldn't give to wake up in the morning with 'TWAT' shaved into the back of his head again and Gary in the mess hall with the biggest shit eating grin he'd ever seen in his life.

Another pang of longing twisted it's claws into his heart, scratching, burning.

"You need sleep mate" Ghost jumped at the voice, though later he would deny any such thing.

The smell of gunpowder, and sweat mixed into the atmosphere behind him. Ghost knew the speaker, if not his Scottish accent a dead giveaway, the smell of the man was. His shoulders relaxed slightly but he made no move to speak to his captain.

"Ghost maybe you need some time off mate" Soap hinted at his Lieutenant putting a gentle hand on the mans shoulder. Something seemed to snap inside Simon turning around swiftly and knocking away his Captains touch. He was the one person in the 141 who knew first hand what Gary was going through, all the pain, fear, and shame; that was even if the young man was even alive after all this time.

He was mad, no furious. After three months they didn't even know if there was a Gary left to rescue, his fists were clenched, his breaths ragged. Trying to add calm into his voice he as he replied to MacTavish.

"I'm going nowhere until we rescue him John. FUCK!" he gave up and threw reason into the stormy air, letting all that had been on his chest, out.

" Why the hell have we been just running errands while he's out there?" he motioned at the vast black waters now behind him. "Do you know what he's been through? What he's going through? Let me bloody tell you John it's everything and anything you fucking don't want to feel, to know, to live through, and we have sat here running errands like fucking twats while he's out there! I'm the only one here that even remotely knows what he's facing, and by now even if we find him, even if he's alive. There may be no Gary left to save." his rage had rollercoastered through his desperate speech and now the man was left feeling defeated and tiered.

Soap however had remained static on the outside but he'd been a fool if he denied any of the truths Ghost spoke.

"Simon we will bring the lad home, I'm done playing games with Shepard . Now we have Price on our side, there's no other rabbit trails possible for him to send us on. Now we can do as we wish. Pack up Simon were going after Gary."

* * *

Two days were all Simon had to wait to rescue the young soldier. Holding a picture up , bent corners and all with a picture of Gary and Meat cleaning up their latest prank, a cherry bomb and spaghetti night. "Just two days mate, just hang on" He spoke to the picture. Two more days.

* * *

One.

Two.

Three.

Taps, trickles, streams of water fell down the grey concrete, weaving through mold and cracks. Slowly diluting the stench of the cell. Clear droplets leaking into the grime, mud, and blood of the ground. A small grey mouse sniffed it's way to the small puddle forming, skittish of the groaning body across the room, and more so of the crackling thunder that raged outside. Drinking it's fill it crawled back to the body, curious.

Bursting through the door came a large man, scarred by pox marks and a recent gash along his forehead. Thanks to the small soldier at his feet. Kicking away the mouse near the body he knelt down, forcefully shaking awake the young man. Gary was his name.

The soldier didn't even stir. Seeing that he had no reason to re-administer the hydromorphone , he didn't bother reaching into his coat for the syringe. He smiled at the broken body before him. This interrogation had been...pleasing.

They had made him scream, beg, and cry for hours.

Always doing the worst they could but maintain a state of consciousness. Granted Liana, a contacts interrogist, had given him a taste of what to expect as a captive, but compared she was merciful. Over the few months they had had the soldier, he had not broken; yet.

But his body sure had.

He could barely walk, a meeting with Ivan had made sure of it, the man had the guts to try and escape. So Ivan made sure to break his leg so he would have minimal chance of getting out of his cell if he tried again.

Now the left leg was a ugly shade of black but healing relatively straight. A brutal hit with a chain to his face had left a broken nose and a scar forming across the bridge and under the right eye. Ohgren reached down an roughed the forming scar gently. They had broken his leg, ribs, face, they burned his skin, they had removed two fingers and carved him like a fresh hunted deer. They had brought him to death, then back to life. But he never once had told them the information they seeked, Ohgren himself did not fully know why the Doctor wanted to know coordinates and names but what little English the soldier and man had spoke to another, he knew the little bastard had not given in.

Lost in thought he did not notice the change in the young soldiers beaten body, did not feel the form tense and start to shake. Looking down however he was staring into pale green eyes, open as wide as the swelling and bruises allowed, full of fear and nothing else. Taking his had off the young mans cheek he smiled darkly at the soldier. Pleased as he watched him try to drag his beaten body away. Only getting a few feet away before his lips turned blue and he paled, lying still and gasping.

Those broken ribs must be a bitch to have. Standing back to full height Ohgren took out a blade from the pocket in his navy cargo pants, noting how the blade was stained a dark rust, soon to be wet again. Gary saw the blade, and only the blade, nothing else mattered besides getting away from the pain. But realizing he couldn't move but a few inches before gasping for air, he had started to cry. He didn't care anymore about being strong, about not showing these men fear. He was too fucking scared to care anymore.

So he cried.

He struggled against the large Russians vice grip at first but he earned a slash along his ribs, adding to the other numerous cuts and bruises. He stayed still after that, waiting for the blade to touch his skin once again. He closed his eyes immediately as he felt the metal against his scaring cheek Tears leaked and burned into freshly made cuts as the blade bit into his flesh, and he grit his teeth trying to lean his head away but the hand at the back of his neck prevented it. After a few moments of the sharp pain however it stopped.

The man holding him in place backed off and looked at his work. Ohgren smiled at the bloodied young man. Put away his knife and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small syringe coat, before approaching Gary. The soldier put up little resistance as he administered the hydromorphione , and watched with half lidded eyes as Ohgren left and locked the cell door with a few loud clangs.

Tiered but thirsty Gary drug his lightened and broken frame to the forming puddle, drinking a few bloody handfuls of the defiled water before staring at his reflection. Hollowed cheeks, bruised lips, and dark circles under his green eyes welcomed his blurring sight. His hair hung almost to his eyebrows, clumped in tangles and grime. A dark brown beard had started but like always Gray had trouble growing facial hair quickly, right now though he welcomed what little warmth the short beard added to his battered body.

Grimacing at the pain the water caused when he washed out his wounded hands, both ring fingers had been removed at the second knuckle, halfway. He sometimes forgot they were even gone. Washing off his face he looked at himself again, seeing immediately the red weeping cut across his paled face. And the new addition. It was a Russian word. He couldn't tell what it meant, but his brain wasn't too fuddled to make out 'сила' carved under his right eye.

Sighing he quickly welcomed the peaceful blackness the drug gave him.

* * *

OK so its been a VERY long time since I have updated, and I know my writing is kind of off of its normal style and flow, but its midnight, my deta/pen pal has been MIA for two weeks now ( HINT HINT rocket if youre out there) and I haven't written ANYTHING since my last update,but hell this is better than nothing. When I get access to a computer again ill fix this up, so if youre going to flame me for "shitty" writing. Well lets just say how bout you don't? ok? I really haven't been in the mood. Again updates are going to be EXTREAMELY hard to accomplish (expecialy if im getting criticized for my work ) so hey tell me how im doing for ( however long my last update has been) and tell me what you like to see in this chapter, also …SHOUT OUT: to all who have reviewed! I have taken all your options and reviews into conciderization and THANK YOU, seriously this is cliché to say but you guys are the motivation, the whip crème on my strawberry, the sprinkles on my ice cream! And to the reviewer who mentioned gary should be raped, you have added to the plot, ( not saying he gets raped, but you shall see).

Hydromorphone is also known as dilauded (which is like morphine and herion ) look it up

'сила' is russian for strength

yah so its not my best but HUZZAH CELEBRATE! its a update! (and longish)

Review i dare you :P


	6. Call me Klien

HEY long time no update huh? well i got a laptop so (i have school) i will try to update a lot!, reviews are key to this story, if somethings lacking tell me! if you want to see something happen, mention it! hell if you just want to say "update" i recomend adding a few more words. next chapter will be VERY LONG! so UPDATE AND IT WILL COME SOONER! also if you want to see what gary looks like, visit my bio page, the link is there :) have fun! let me know what you think about the guy i chose for gary and the rating change please!

* * *

I can't stand this place, it wreaks of death- the smell of rotting, burned flesh never leaves the air- infection permeates everything.

The sour wreak of pus haunts my senses.

I want to go home.

I don't know what's going on anymore- it scares me, terrifies me. I don't know the date, year, -fuck, I can't even remember my own name half the time. I'm losing time. I go into the White room and things go blank, until I wake up again in my cell. I know there's days of memory gaps ; I know this because I go into the White room with fresh bruises but come out with healing ones.

I think I may have told them information, but I can't even remember what they want to know. Fuck, all I am sure of is that I'm a soldier. For who or what, I don't know.

I remember a man cutting me a day ago, I think.

It hurts my face stings; it feels swollen from beatings and all I can do is droll because my throat hurts too much to swallow. I can't help but cry, curled in the furthest most corner of cracked, damp, concrete cell. I feel pathetic, I'm scared to even close my eyes, when I do I'm plagued by horrors of this place. Of what they've done to me, and others.

Last time they had prisoners out in The Yard. It looks more of a snow barren meadow to me, but that's what I've heard other prisoners call it, so I do too. It was freezing. Frost bitten air blew against battered flesh, wounds open to the cold Siberian tundra. I met another soldier there, he was faring far better than myself, he said...Fuck! What did he say? Something, something.

He was taller than me, told me to call him Klein, then it gets hazy again. I remember sitting in the snow, god, it was cold, but I can't stand, they just drug me outside with all the others so I sat and hoped we'd go back in soon. Most prisoners here are Russian civilians or resistance. I don't know how many, but I'd guess on fifty of them total. They looked up to Klein in a sort of trusting way, it had me realizing that there was a lot more to this place than just my cell and the White Room.

* * *

_I bit back a cry of pain as I was forced into the snow, the cold bit through the worn grey sweatpants I had, the rest of my broken body was left bare to the tundra. A large russian guard stood by my side, sneering his leathery face at my feeble attemts to get off the snow. It was so fucking cold._

_Ivan was his name, the bastard hand been making sure my few days of conciousness and sanity were a living hell. And he did more than succeed._

_I tried to imagine he wasn't right beside me, and focused on my suroundings, the white glare of Siberian tundra burned into my eyes, how long had it been since I had seen sunlight? Amongst the vast winter stood the small compound that had become my litteral hell. It held similarities to the compound a man had infiltrated with me, but more vast in size, less low profile, with five two-story bunkers, and razor wire lining ten foot tall chainlink fences. Cement hung off the bunkers in chunks, revealing chicken wire and plywood underneath. Cheap. _

_The Yard consisted of a football field sized area, a row of stone benches stood buried amongst the snow. Prisioners stood together, wearing far more than I was. They were lined together along a bunker, guards paced by them, holding fast their assault rifles. They were made to sit, the Doctor stood in front of them all, hands folded in front of him. Another man stood next to him, young and dark haired. He carried himself like a man in a high position would. Fuck I've seen him before, but where? _

_"Where's the task force soldier?" he asked his russian accent as thick as his leather coat. I wanted a leather coat._

_"By Ivan, he has shown us much trouble" the Doctor answered._

_They then walked into the bunker the prisioners were lined up against. They were in there for a while, I watched my fingers turn blue and my body started to go from painfully cold to burning hot. I was freezing. Thinking was starting to turn sluggish and dull._

_Ivan brought his booted foot into my bad leg, I could feel the broken pieces of my tibia grind against one another. I let out a strangled scream and cradeled my leg, trying not to pass out as my vision swarmed with black spots. The pain blocking everything but itself. _

_I must have lost conciousness for a bit because I awoke to the Doctor putting a empty syringe back into his coat. I noticed the colors on his sweater, black and red, started to dance._

_"fuck me" I didn't mean to say it out loud but whatever he gave me, I couldn't feel my body anymore, and I was glad about that. He looked at me with calculating brown eyes, his aged face started to distort. I could feel his breath on my face, the smell of stale cigaretts bringing back some hidden terrors._

_"You're almost ready American" he spoke low to me. What the hell? Almost ready for what? Who the hell was this guy?_

_He grabbed a pocket light and shined it in my eyes, I just stared at it. He frowned._

_"What's your name"_

_Sudden fear hit me, what the fuck, what was my name? I could feel my face slip into panic._

_"You don't know do you?"_

_"n...no" my teeth chattered, I vaugely wondered why. His face wavered blankly._

_He turned away from me speaking to someone near me, and my vision swam with blue and white. _

_"Oh fuck..." my stomach turned, I closed my eyes trying to become obliverated and lost in the drug._

_I jumped as a hand wrapped its way under my body, lifting me up._

_"Hey easy there, I'm taking you inside" He was a prisioner, another stood by his side but by now they were nothing but grey blurs, I would vaugely make out a English accent. My mind swarmed with skulls at the sound, why, I didn't know. But it caused panic to rise again._

_I focused on his arms, his body heat thawing my frozen limbs while he caried me. I felt weak and frail at the ease in which he held me. I started to doze off as the atmothsphere around me became almost painfuly warm._

_"... kid, kid wake up" I opened my eyes and was met with blue ones. Aburn hair hung in the eyes of the man in front of me. A scar hung on his lips forming a upside down 'Y'._

_"Hey kid what's your name?" I thought hard on his question, but soon felt my eyelids droop again. He shook my shoulder gently but it still hurt, I fliched away. _

_"I won't hurt you kid"_

_I suddenly felt like crying, I was far past confused or scared to care much either._

_"..sorry" I managed to mumble out. My throat hoarse._

_"Hey you never need to apologise kid, Okay? do you know your name?" he told me. The accent bringing back the skull, distracting me some._

_"no"_

_There was a pause and mumbling between him and another. I tried to open my eyes to see but they hung limply._

_"That's okay, we'll figure that out later, you can call me Klien"_

_He talked me to sleep, and for the first time in a long time, I felt safe._


	7. Smoke

"Smoke, stop lagging and get the fuck up here" Ghost hissed over the radio at the newest addition to the 141. Shepards way of saying 'get over it Gary can be replaced'. He was young, not as young as Roach had been but, still close to the same age as the 21 year old. _No he'd be 22 now..._ Riley's mind corrected. Gary's birthday had been three days ago.

A phone call to Nicolai and a ocean later, the team was back at square one. Ghost fought the urge to just leave the soldier behind like they'd done to Roach. This one he wouldn't mind loosing.

Moonlight danced across the tin rooftops of the flavela, the mewling of stray cats and the scuttering of rats amongst the garbage ridden streets had everyones nerves on edge, waiting for another rooftoop chase and escape to play out. Ghost swung low and fast, silenced ACR ready to fire, as a loud bang followed by a string of shushed curses came behind him.

The barrel of his rifle was barely an inch from Smoke's head, silver light danced in his blonde hair and Riley saw the reflection of his gun in his wide pale blue eyes. Ghost grunted his displeasure and jerked the young man to his feet by his collar and slamed him into the wall left of him, plaster cracking with the force, coming down and dusting his black uniform and leather gloves. The metal roof rattling some.

"What the fuck don't you understand about covert and silent?" he his menacingly to the young man, who shook slightly in his hold.

"D...dude chill" Smoke said his voice quivering. Hands up in defense.

"Your going to get us all fucking killed, why the bloody hell Shepard let you join a elite task force is beyond me." Ghost said steadying his rage and letting go of Smoke, who scuttled quickly to retrieve his sidearm from the ground and reholstering it with shaky hands.

"Ghost get your team to the building and get into position" MacTavish's voice hissed over the radio. Ghost pressed the button to the side of his head set, turning the frequency to match his captain's.

"On our way Capt'n" Ghost responded, glaring at Smoke, who had suddely taken a liking to wearing his facemask. He turned back to the frequency he shared with Smoke, and started forward again. This time the soldier was hot on his heels and silent.

They went through a back alleyway, the worn stone steps were cracked with mold and damp sewage, the sound of their steps was absorbed by the brown liquid. Ahead of them were three doorways, one on the left, the other two on the right. A yellow soiled rug hung from the left doorway. Ghost, made a shushing jesture and waved two fingers towards the scantily covered doorway. It was way too quiet for anyones comfort. He crept past the doorway huging the right side of the stone alley, his kevelar vest brushing against the plaster walls. Smoke covered the doorway as his superior passed. Ghost looked back at him, he hated the skull mask and red glasses the lieutenant wore. It gave him the creeps.

"Come on"

Smoke gave the alley a dreaful look, he was on edge, and the quiet wasn't helping. Following in Ghost's footsteps he hugged the right wall and tried his best to keep his footing light.

Nothing happened, it was like the town was dead.

They reached the mouth of the alleyway, the moon was full enough that they didn't need night vision googles. Ghost led them through another alley and a flight of stairs before the buildings thinned out and they approached a poorly gaurded compound.

"We see you Bravo-two, Snipers are silenced and in position, do your best not to alert the enemy, this may be our only chance" MacTavish warned through the radio.

The compound was small, far smaller than Roba's had been. There was no gate or fence, it was a simple two story building with tile roofing, Riley could only see two soldiers pacing in front of the main door. It was poorly lit with a single flickering lamp post.

"In position"

"Delta-four cut the power" MacTavish ordered quietly through the radio.

Smoke watched as Yankee and Kahuna crept in towards a ungaurded wall, a utility box was their target. Kahuna brought out wire cutters and got to work on the box while Yankee gaurded the door right next to it. A large hunting knife in hand he was crouched low, and on the balls of his feet ready to kill. He could barely make out the American flag bracer Yankee wore. The rest of Delta-four: Exxon, Apex, and Chino; came in from the opposite side of the brush surrounding the compound, huging the shadows and waiting for the lights to go out.

"Zulu-one, move up; Bravo-four start infiltrating the rear doors; Alpha team on me; remember were here for Javier Fhay, make sure the bastards alive"

Smoke followed Ghost around the back of the compound, and as they moved in the few yards towards the doors, Archer and Toad had picked off the two outside gaurds and the power was cut. He could faintly hear portugese being spoken upstairs but it was calm, their cover hadn't been blown yet. Ghost took up the right side of the door while Smoke took to the left he spun out low after Ghost opened the door. The room was something from a horror movie, blood stained all sorts of equipment that hung from silver hooks and on trays. The white walls were stained pink with blood that refused to vanish. File cabnints lined the left wall with the hanging equipment. A single metal gurney was in the center of the room, bolted to the floor. Its leather binds dangling on the floor.

The room was empty.

"Clear"

They walked in cautiously, making it quickly to the door on the right wall.

It was the same method, the room was safe, teams Alpha and Zulu-one, had cleared it quietly and Yankee and Kahuna were busy pileing the bodies wile Zulu-one moved back outside to the brush to gaurd for any possible runners or reinforcements.

Ghost led them up the stairs first, Smoke winced slightly as the wood creeked under his weight. Ghost just glared. They continued up quickly because the speaking had stopped.

Alpha team followed behind them; the three: MacTavish, Flux, and Zach; took to the two doors on the right. While Smoke and Ghost had the two on the right, leaving the one straight ahead in the hallway to wait.

"Clear the far door Iv'e got this one" Ghost ordered taking the closer doorframe.

Smoke readied his gun and put his hand on the knob. Turning it open fast, he swung low, except this time he was met with a crowbar to the head. The force of the blow had landed him back in the hallway. The militia in front of him was shouting something but Smoke couldn't hear a word he said, just saw his lips move.

His face pounded and he vaugely wondered what had happened, but he couldn't bring himself to do much but groan. He closed his eyes, hoping the room would stop spinning, but opened them when something wet sprayed across his face.

The man lay dead at his feet, brown eyes empty and a bullet hole between them, the crowbar layed limp in his hand.

* * *

"...ke...SMOKE...SMOKE come on!" someone was shaking his shoulder. It was Yankee.

His head pounded and he coughed on his own blood. They weren't in the hallway anymore. He was laying on the metal gurney in the torture room. Someone was screaming. It wasn't helping his headache.

"Por favor, pare! Vou lhe dizer onde ele está! Basta parar!"

"ENGLISH!" Ghost demanded dragging the blade through the mans leg, twisting it, slowly.

"I'll tell you just stop! I'll tell you!" Javier begged.

Ghost looked up towards MacTavish who nodded.

"Tell"

"There's a file, its in the interrogation room downstairs. Its under your soldiers name. All the transactions and information is there. Please just let me go."

MacTavish went to his radio. "Yankee I need you to find a file under Roach's name in the room your at."

"Okay but only for a sec, Flamers is fucked up bad." Yankee hissed as he went through the filing cabnints finding 'Gary Sanderson'.

"Okay Ive got it and its stuffed about two inches thick, need me for anything else?"

"Check for a transaction paper and then you're free"

Javier stared wide eyed at the men, and the long silence had Ghost itching to kill him.

"Yah its here its in Russian, but its here...shit...Jake wake up!"

MacTavish nodded to Ghost, who proceeded to jerk the blade from Javiers thigh and in a quick fluid motion, drive it to the hilt in his chest.

The man gurgled blood for a few seconds before laying still.

They went straight downstairs after that. MacTavish telling the squad to group up inside the compound as they waited for Nicholai to arrive. Walking into the 'interrogation room' and not knowing what had become of Smoke had MacTavish's nerves on edge.

The young man laid still on the gurney, his pale hair was stained red and was spiked in thick clumps. The top half of his left ear seemed crushed and a six inch gash bleed freely above it. The left half of his face was swollen , blood had pooled and dripped from the metal.

Yankee looked up quickly, then realizing it was them he went back to work on trying to both wake Smoke, and stench the bleeding.

"I think his skulls fractured but I can't tell, he won't fucking wake up" he said almost paniced.

Ghost felt guilty, had he stayed with the kid, this probobly wouldn't have happened.

"...wish he would have worn a helmet"

Yankee was fretting. And he was getting on Ghosts nerves more than usual. He took the file on Gary from him and held it tightly.

"Were stuck here till Nicholai arrives which will be in a few minutes tops, theres nothing we can do but keep him breathing til were back at base." MacTavish sighed.

Kahuna came in with a cheerful gleam in his brown eyes, unbeknownst to him what had occoured inside the compound. As did the rest of the team.

"What the hell happened?"

"Smoke took a crowbar to the head, but hey we found the files on Gary" Yankee said in mock cheerfulness.

Ghost grunted his dislike of Yankee's tone. He was new too, he didn't know the team as it had been four months ago. The death of Doc, Meat, Royce, Cyrus, and many others; including the possibility of Roach had left the 141 lacking and starting from scratch.

Many of the new members did not bond well with the seasoned ones. And MacTavish knew he'd have to fix that soon if anyone else was to survive.

Yankee squared his shoulders and glared back at Ghost.

The roar of Nicholai's MH-53 Pave Low gave relief to the squad.

Dust blew in from the open door as Nicholai landed. MacTavish and Yankee held up Smoke and carried him to the Pave Low.

"Ghost get looking in that file as to where Roach was last shipped."

"Exxon what's this transfer paper say"

"He's someplace near derevnya Druzhina, Russia" Exxon said quickly handing back the paper and walking out with most of the squad.

"A place not far from derevnya Druzhina, Russia" Ghost relayed back to MacTavish.

"Nicholai do you have any friends up near Druzhina" MacTavish asked holding Smokes head still, not liking the amount of blood that was soaking into his gloves.

"Da not close but I know of a base near Lyutenge, your friend will have to hold out a few hours though, is that okay?" Nicholai reved up the engines as the last of the 141 boarded the Pave Low.

"He's gonna have to"

* * *

"Wha's the noise..." Smoke mumbled through bruised lips, his jaw ached with the action. Everything ached.

They had only been flying for an hour and MacTavish had given up hope that the young man would awaken anytime during the flight.

But as soon as it happened Smoke had gone back out of conciousness.

* * *

I want to thank Mirai M. Mieux for all her help! the 141 team wouldn't be, without her! and CandyMugger who created Smoke aka Jake Mehr Flamers, age ;23. hope you like! review! THANK YOU ALL!


	8. Loyalists

This was the second time I'd ever been in the infirmary and I was relieved that this time I wasn't freezing to death, just healing. A young man sat on the gurney next to me, straight nosed and scrawny, he'd been here longer than I had been-two years. I had only been in this hell-hole for five months; I remembered now.

We had been sleeping for some time now, an occasional guard walking in every now and then to check on the prisoners. But there was no need really to guard the room if you were in the infirmary; you were in no trouble causing condition.

"Hey Marine, how you holding up?" the young man said sitting up a little weary, his eyes half lidded and his British accent was slurred.

"Good...how'd you know I was in the Marines?" I slurred opening my swollen eyes. It hurt a lot.

"I've seen your tattoo mate, looks pretty damned like a bloody U.S.M.C emblem if I ever saw one." He smirked, pointing at my chest. Some of his fingers were missing also.

"Oh ...I forgot about that..." I muttered leaning back against my pillow. For the first time since I'd been captured I wasn't drugged, wasn't terrified, wasn't in too much pain; I could think, but I had nothing to think about. My mind felt dull, empty. There were large gaps of time I still couldn't remember. Like who I was, my time here, the men that haunt my dreams. They make me feel safe, but it always turns into a nightmare when we run across these tin rooftops, when they let me be taken away.

Then there's Ivan, he haunts my dreams most of the time. But as my mind returns to me, I realize its not nightmares, its reality. And no matter how much I scream, kick, and beg, he will never leave until he gets what he came for. He always got what he came for...

But then Klien came along. Klien keeps Ivan away. He doesn't mock me when I cry, he understands. But I still don't feel safe. I'm still so fucking scared. He can't keep Ivan or anyone else away forever.

I think only death can grant that freedom.

"Remember your name Marine?" the man asked. He was as much of a man as I was. I bet we were that same age, but then again his emancipated form could contribute to his boyish looks. It was odd looking at him then hearing him talk. And once again I was reminded of skulls and a deeper British accent.

"No sorry, do you know yours?" I asked.

"Des...Desmond Finley, and don't fret too much about your name, it'll come back to you." his voice took a saddened tone as if he'd remembered something horrible. "This place is fucked up, I still can't believe I've been here for two years..."

I didn't know how to assure his angst, after all I didn't know if anyone was looking for me. He caught on.

"Don't worry about kissin' ass and telling me it's gon' be alright, I just ramble sometimes it helps keep me from going bonkers... Bloody hell...two years... anyways enough of my musings what made you join the Marines?"

"I don't remember... I don't remember a lot of things" I muttered.

He sighed and didn't talk for a few minutes I thought I had angered him somehow so I laid on my side and gave him my back , trying to imagine I was somewhere else, somewhere I wasn't lost. Wasn't scared.

"You know ever since Klien n' me met you a month ago we thought you'd drop dead the next week at most. But you didn't. You Jarheads are though as nails lemme tell you. They put you in a room don't they? That's when things disappear for you?"

"Yah it's white... white everywhere... I'm not strong, I'm scared... all the time." He sat up and grabbed my shoulder pulling me to face him.

"Most men die here within their first few days. I've seen you fight back, you cry, you bleed. Your fear; that's what makes you strong, it's what keeps you alive. The day you give up, that's the day you're weak."

* * *

As soon as Nikolai's Pave Low dusted the frosted grounds of Lyutenge the 141 found themselves surrounded by Russian Loyalists, many of them were families who had worked as simple farmers or doctors before the Shadow of Zakhaev came into their lives. Simple people forced to live in hiding and violence. They had done well to guard themselves, their camp was large, walled by brick and razor wire; two concrete bunkers, a few makeshift homes, and a large metal hangar were placed randomly inside the confinements and guard towers.

The Pave Low door was opened and Nikolai directed the team of medics to the injured soldier he had told them about once they established radio contact a hour ago. They had immediately taken Smoke off on a gurney, pushing the unconscious man into the smaller of the two concrete bunkers. And MacTavish found himself stiff from the flight, and covered in Smoke's blood.

"I'll go with them and keep you posted Captain" Flux said following the medics with a hand infront of his face, sheilding his eyes from the blowing snow. MacTavish let him go, attempting to wipe the blood off his hands and onto his uniform but it had dried into the creases of his skin.

Ghost tapped his shoulder and pointed ahead of them, reminding him of the present.

An older man with snow white hair and a salt and pepper beard met them halfway while they approached the larger concrete bunker. He and Nikolai nodded to each other before the latter went off to the largest of the wooden homes, probably to visit old comrades.

"Welcome soldiers my name is Viktor, Nikolai has told me much about you. Come we will explain ourselves inside yes?" He beckoned them into the larger bunker.

The men had followed defenses up, and wearily they trudged through the snow to the warmth of the Loyalists camp, sheilding themselves the best they could against the howling wind and snow drift that picked at their thin battle gear worn for the hot rooftops of Rio de Janeiro, not the Siberian tundra.

"We have been watching the camp your friend is in, we actually have two informants there already, they are due here anytime to discuss the issue with you."

"I take it Nikolai filled you in while we flew over?" MacTavish asked already knowing the answer.

"Da he had, come rest." he led them through hallways, brushing past men and women dressed warmly. Some busying themselves with papers, others with conversation.

Viktor led them into a conference room it was as plain as the rest of the cement bunker. A large table that could easily seat thirty people took up residence in the center of the room.

"Wait here." he said before exiting.

The squad had made themselves at home in the ten minutes Viktor was gone; Kahuna and Zach had even taken to a small arm wrestling tournament betting cigarettes. Nikolai had joined them, showed MacTavish to a sink to wash his hands, and brought armfuls of rations to which everyone with the exception of Ghost, ate with exuberance.

When Viktor came back he was flanked by two snow dusted, disguised soldiers, who rushed past the 141 and Viktor and headed straight for the rations. The smaller of the two hooked their leg on one of the chairs and swung it out in a fluid motion before collapsing on it with a heavy sigh. The other one grabbed two MRE's and tossed one to the sitting soldier. MacTavish just cocked an eyebrow at their behavior.

"My friends this is Blaž Djuric and Nadezhda Alekseeva. They are our only link to the prison you speak of." He waved a hand in their direction. The soldiers had started shedding their visage, revealing a man slightly younger than MacTavish and a woman in her mid twenties. They both had dark hair and eyes, but the female, Nadezhda, had darker skin. After introducing the two informants to the team Viktor said something in Russian to them. And they looked up surprised.

"These the soldiers you speak of?" Blaž asked. His English was off, but understandable.

"Yes now stop playing dumb." Viktor said to him, a smirk placed itself on BlaŽ's renaissance features. Nadezhda just smiled at him before standing to his side. She was short and youthful but held a look in her eyes that aged her. They both did.

"What's the name of your soldier?" she addressed MacTavish her english was only slightly better.

"Gary Sanderson"

"You have photo of him yes?" Blaž asked.

John hadn't thought of bringing a photo along. He glanced around meeting the eyes of his men but they all nodded their heads in a 'negative'.

"I don't"

"I do" Ghost said standing from his chair in the corner. From the expressions on Blaž's and Nadezhda's faces, they hadn't noticed him, let alone expected to see a man in a skull balaclava.

"Well ain't that jus' perfect Romeo saves they day" Yankee said throwing his hands in mock excitement. Zach, the ex Navy SEAL, elbowed him in the ribs.

Ghost ignored the comment and handed the photo of Gary over to the informants.

"I seen him before, yes, a week ago actually" Nadezhda said a look of recognition sliding across her sharp room was quiet as she handed the photo to Blaž who reconized the soldier also.

"Yes I seen him too, it was month ago but I still seen your soldier" he handed the photo back to Ghost who put it back in his vest pocket. The newer members of the task force had shared both confused and surprised expressions. They'd been expecting the whole 'Gary Sanderson' issue to be a wild goose chase that ended in a 21 gun salute with an American flag drapped over a mohagany coffin.

"You have information on the base?" Exxon asked.

"Yes we've been station there for two years without drawing suspicion, I undercover as guard and Nadi as nurse, we are your way into the base" Blaž said before taking a bite noodles.

"Sir?" Flux said catching MacTavish's blank look as he entered the room.

"Yes?" MacTavish turned to his soldier, noticing the worry in the Welsh mans voice.

"They've stabalized him for now but hes got some bad swelling going on. They'll know in a few hours if they need to drill a hole in his head or if he can hold out til we get Sanderson" he dismissed him with a nod of his head.

Flux took a seat between Ghost and Yankee's line of sight. He wasn't ignorant to the glares the two had been sending each other. "Play nice boys" he said when the two had resorted to leaning around him to get view of the other.

The informants had picked at their rations before settling on a cigarrette they passed back and forth.

"You have plan no?" Nadezhda asked letting out a breath of nicotine.

"This has been touch and go really...but whatever plan that ensures Gary getting out alive I'm fine with. Now about the people holding him."

"Odmah idite da nabavite datoteke koje su u mom sefu" Blaž said, Nadezhda left the room in long strides.

"Thats not Russian?" Ghost said from his corner.

"No it is not, you expect most Loyalists here to be Russian no? I was raised in Serbia as well as two doctors here. But that is for another time." he stated waiting for Nadezhda to return, when she did she carried a large stack of files which she set in front of Blaž.

"The camp is small, run by some colorful men." She slid a file to MacTavish, he opened it and was met with photos of bunkers, guard outposts and a large folded up blueprint of the whole camp itself.

"It is run by Makerov's followers, the head man there is a German named Dietrich Schütte he is the one in control of your Gary Sanderson. The camp is guarded by about fourty men, depends on who's on leave and who is not. We have sadly no access as to prisioner records, for that was not our mission and only Schütte and his personal guard are present during the interogations, or whatever they do to the prisoners." She slid him another file showing the German to be a small middle aged man in a lab coat.

"The main issue to face when we infiltrate is a radio station five miles away on the hillside, it must be taken down before you go in, we can go inside and secure most of the prisioners, including your soldier" Blaž said snuffing out the cigarette with his boot.

"Apex think you can handle a radio tower?" MacTavish asked.

"I can make it go fucking boom if thats what your asking" he smirked.

"Good you Vulture,Trojan, and Flux will break off and deal with the tower; Archer and Toad will supply sniper support, the rest will break into two teams one led by Ghost the other by me...When will you be ready?" MacTavish asked the informants.

"We will be back there in two days if the blizzard does not let up, but we leave tomorrow regardless. Viktor will contact you when we are at the camp." Blaž grabbed his jacket from the chair and headed for the door along with Nadezhda.

"We will talk to you during your flight in, also more tonight, but we must go help the others for now; those files hold everything we know on the camp" and with that they were gone.

"We have place for you to rest and clean, come Nikolai will show you" Viktor said ushering the team out of the room.

* * *

"So you are Italian?" Nadezhda asked Exxon, who sat alone watching the sun set on the outskirts of camp, handing him a mug of coffee before sitting down next to him. Looking out to the golden strands of light that hung in the snow drifts and shrubs.

"Yes, my accent is strong no?" he said lightly, thankful for the furs and thicker gear to help sheild him against the cold. He sipped the coffee before cringing.

"Tastes like shit no?" she mocked his light tone. "I am sorry but it's the best coffee around these parts, we usually mix it with Vodka or Whiskey, instead of wasting our sugar; but I advise against it because it makes it taste worse and theres the possibility of getting drunk or tipsy yes?" she offered him a metal flask. His nose telling him it was indeed some strong alchohal, he declined.

"I will take your word on it " he sipped some more of the coffee ignoring her smirk.

"Your Captain told me you are Language Specialist, that you will be best for operrating the radio between your team and us, but he could not find you to ask."

"Yes ah I will do it no problem, just came out here to think, those files you gave us...that Dietrich Schütte is up to something. Is my team asleep?" he changed the subject.

She stood "Most are yes, but your Captain, the skull faced man, and maybe two others are not. Do not dwell on Schütte for the moment, from what your Captain said you all need rest, I am sorry about your friend also. But our doctors are good they will keep him stable, go rest."

And with that Nadezhda Alekseeva was gone,and Exxon watched her thin form vanish into the Loyalist's camp feeling like she knew something they didn't.

* * *

AHhhh i love Apex...So yah i will update again when i finish this book report of mine due on oct. 4th...Id like reviews...please?

let me know what you think may happen next? Catching the plot? certain characters your like or hate? should this become a series?(it most likely may anyways) and im sorry for my stereotypical russains and vodka...its midnight and i dont feel like being smart... Id Like to thank everyone whos been reading this/reviewing! **On my bio age is pictures of the characters.** Let me know what you think of them also

Blaž Djuric- pronounced( Blaze ) ( Duyrick) is Serbian and 32- i think thats right but its my cousins serbian wifes last name so...correct me if i am wrong?

Nadezhda Alekseeva-pronounced (nah-DYEZH-dah) (alex-SYV-ah) is Russian and 24. but if it helps just call her Nadi whenever you see her name...it was horrible learning how to type it... i kept mixing up the h d and z... :( anyways let me know what you think of the story/characters/plot thus far?

Desmond Finley (Des) - 26 - British ahhh Mirai M. Mieux is to thank for him :)


	9. Silent Night

Apex had taken to the Loyalists generous suply of explosives with heart. And with much chiding from his Captain he had settled on a dozen blocks of C4 mold and some fuses.

"I swear if they had a nuke you'd take it." Flux muttered to himself.

"Ey now I'm not that bad lad." the Irishman said clapping his shoulder.

"Yes, yes you are you crazy bastard."

"Eh...your probably right." He flashed a smile showing a missing bottom tooth.

"Get that thing fixed, you won't pick up any gals with missing teeth."

The auburn haired man cocked an eyebrow and put on a smirk "There's not a lass around that could resist me."

"You're right; she'd just shoot your ugly ass."

"Oh, now that's just cold."

"About as cold as your bed."

"Fuck you." The red head picked up an abandoned cigarette pack from one of the crates and threw it at the back of Flux's head.

"I've had better offers, thank you." The man teased, dodging the cigarettes.

"Eh knock it off you two, we've got a bloody job to do, not play." Ghost growled out as he entered the wooden house, bringing in both a chill from the winter air and an equally cold one with his presence.

"So Ghost do you mind me askin' ye somethin?"

"Yes, but intuition tells me you'll fuckin' ask anyways."

"Aye, so who's this Gary guy were gonna go get?"

The fists of Simon Riley were gripped as tight as the cold knuckles would allow, shaking slightly with the force. His shoulders were stiff for a few moments before he forced them to relax, sighing he turned slowly around towards the men. Apex was rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Gary...Gary was part of the original Task Force, he is like... a brother to me." And before anything else could be said he grabbed the few flash bangs he came for and left, snow blowing through the open doorway in his wake.

"Well that was..."

"Interesting?" Apex supplied, buckling his pack closed, the black plastic snapping into place.

"Aye indeed mate."

They conveniently ran into Archer and Toad after exiting the wooden house, snow drifts pushed up against the buildings walls and muddy slush served as the camp's walkways.

"Hey get on up to the meeting room. Captain's gonna brief your team's before you head out."

"Where're ye goin then?" Ice had started to frost the short rust colored hair that was making residence along Apex's neck and jaw, barely dusting his upper lip but dripping from his chin in a short spike.

"We've been briefed already, and we need to scout the best vantage points while we still can." Archer stated matter-of-factly, some menace in his brown eyes as he and his loyal spotter stalked off. The other two men made their way to the room they came to on their first day at the camp.

"Nice of ya'll to show up" Yankee muttered as they walked in and took their seats amongst the rest of the team. Most of the men were geared up in white Kevlar vests with matching helmets and camo's, having opted for goggles and a balaclava, to bear the cold weather, but few like MacTavish, Hazard, and Vulture had enough facial hair to shield them from the cold and went without.

"Oi listen up!" MacTavish said over the chatter of his team. He was greeted by a quick silence. "Teams Alpha and Bravo will infiltrate the prison camp and secure any prisoners and persons of interest, while Delta team secures the communications before we go in." He held up a large photo of Dietrich Schüttle. "Schüttle is working for Makarov, so don't be trigger happy-he may be our only lead to the bastard. Alpha team will be led by myself, Bravo by Ghost. With me are Chino, Hazard, Zach and Kahuna. We will provide a distraction from the west gate-" he pointed on the faded blue blueprints of the camp that was mounted on the wall behind him. "-while Bravo team infiltrates the east gate and secures the prisoners. Bravo team is Exxon and Yankee. Once you secure the prisoners Archer and Toad will join you. Delta will be led by Apex, your primary target is to secure and destroy the radio tower five miles out-from there you will meet us back at the LZ and clear any patrol teams Archer and Toad may have missed. With Delta will be Vulture, Flux and Trojan. "

Viktor rapped his knuckles on the open door before entering.

"Yes?" MacTavish said just as his satellite radio went off. He glared at the small black rectangle as he pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to Ghost. "It's probably Shepherd, give him some bull shit story."

"My pleasure." Ghost said darkly as he strode out of the room to take the call.

"My informants have called, they say now is the best time to start the infiltration, most of the guards will be on break or asleep in two hours. We have the helicopters ready to go."

"Thank you Viktor." MacTavish turned back to his team.

"Alright Delta you have five minutes to get the rest of your gear together before you head out; Alpha, Bravo we leave in ten."

Delta team left quickly as a group, some of the other soldiers went to prepare also.

"Sir, your soldier, the injured one, his condition is not improving, I can have my men fly him back to your base if that is what you want." There was some sadness in Viktor's tone as he explained Smoke's condition. John cringed some, before rubbing a hand across his face, his fingers running lightly over the scar on his left eye. He had forgotten about Smoke, his mind was still reeling with the news that Roach was alive that it became all he'd thought about in the past three days

"How bad is he?" Something cold had settled in his stomach.

Viktor sighed, "He has some bad swelling in his brain, the...pipe was it?"

"Crowbar." Yankee supplied, a cigarette bobbing in his mouth that matched well with the menace in his eyes.

"-Crowbar fractured the left half of his skull, it managed to hit well...the spots you don't want to hit... and his jaw is fractured, we have him on IV fluids but he needs a feeding tube, something we don't have access to here. We had to wire his teeth together so his jaw would heal properly. But his main issue right now is the brain swelling, he needs a hole in his skull to relieve the pressure and again we don't have access to the equipment, nor do we want to move him around after that."

The news did nothing to ease the guilt that had crept into John's soul. But there was nothing he could do now but send off his soldier and save his other.

"Nikolai will give you the coordinates to the base, I have to go inform them now of the situation, thank you for all you've done Viktor." He held a hand out to the man, who grasped and shook it.

"Anytime."

Ghost leaned against the wall in the hallway arguing with someone as MacTavish strode out of the room, Viktor following and continuing past them.

"I don't bloody care that you want to talk to John, he's busy...Well fix it!...No-... Will you fucking shut your mouth long enough for me to tell you, you blithering moron?... That's better, tell Price to keep feeding Shepherd the bullshit that we're vacationing in Monaco...No we're not actually vacationing in Monaco you twit!" He noticed John striding near him and jerked the radio towards him.

"It's Jey, he's outta the loop and he and Price are being drilled by Shepherd as to our whereabouts, please...deal with him before I lose my fucking mind." he growled handing over the radio and stomping away to the waiting helicopter outside.

_"Captain?"_

"So Shepherd's eating ya alive I hear?" He stood against the wall, out of the way as his men filed out of the room behind him.

_"Yah he knows I've been in contact with you, I've had to set viruses and wipe the hard drives on a daily basis to keep the idiots he's put on me from finding your trail. Fuckers think Firewall actually works..." _The technician complained.

_"He's been hounding Price too, but that creepy bastard hasn't given anything up besides well...Monaco...I don't know why Shepherd's actually settling with that though..."_

"Well, we're having to send Smoke back, he should be there in about ten hours. Have medics waiting for him-he's got some bad brain swelling, fractured skull, and broken jaw, he hasn't eaten in three days also. The rest of the team should be back the following day, and defiantly have medics waiting for us; we'll be bringing home some POW's."

After a few moments of static Jey replied_. "You found him... damn...I-I thought..."_

"So did we, Jey, but I've got to go now, were infiltrating in a hour or two depending on the flight, keep Shepherd's monkeys busy will you?"

_"Yes Sir, I'll have them kissing my boots by the time you're back, over and out." _MacTavish pocketed the radio and walked out into the Russian winter and boarding a waiting Helicopter, sitting by Ghost.

Loyalists had gathered around to watch the men leave to destroy something they feared, women had children at their sides, some held them on their hips. The men, most bearded and some with a missing arm or leg, stood proudly watching them go.

"Oo-fuckin-rah" Yankee supplied.

* * *

The tower was simple, a basic concrete structure with the radio system mounted on top, the red bars glistened with icicles. On the outside it was guarded by two men playing cards at a small plastic table, a German shepherd lazed at their feet. Seven grey snowmobiles were lined up outside in front of them, frost had bordered all the windows in a thick white coat making it almost impossible to see the movement inside.

"Keep it quiet" Apex commanded as the team split up, Flux stayed with him while Vulture and Trojan headed towards the back half of the structure.

_"We're clear in the back, waiting for your mark."_ Trojan informed them.

"I call the mutt and the right guy." Flux said, crawling forward in the snow besides Apex.

"Fuck you."

"No thanks, but glad you find me fuckable." He lined up the man in his sights as Apex counted down to three, before firing a single shot in the man's head and moving quickly onto the dog.

"Clear in front-move up and prepare for breach."

Apex primed the explosive charge before moving to the left side of the doorway, Flux on the right.

"Breach on three." he radioed.

"One...two...THREE!" the explosions went off almost simultaneously, Apex swung out low and Flux shot over his head, careful not to shoot each other in the small fray of surprised screams and flying papers the team cleared the tower of its eight occupants. Flux immediately started working on one of the computers, his fingers pecked the crooked black keys at a rapid pace.

"Captain, tower is secure, establishing contact with the informants ...now." Their earpieces gave a clouded static squeal before clearing up again.

_"Glad to see the tower gave you no trouble."_ Blaž´s voice greeted them.

_"Thing's secure on your end?"_ MacTavish asked.

_"Da, they are, I am still collecting some prisoners, but feel free to infiltrate anytime soon."_

_"Do you have our soldier?"_

_"Ahh I'm sure of it, but I cannot know for sure. Nadezhda would know, but she has no radio and I have not been able to do much but funnel prisoners her way...Shit Dietrich just walked into the infirmary, I suggest you hurry." _The channel went dead as both parties left.

"Okay Apex this bitch is all yours." Flux waved his hand at the computer system.

"Ah we will be such good lovers lass." he patted the monitor before sticking C4 charges all around the room, being generous on applying the charges to the propane tank that sat against the outside wall of the tower.

They found the keys for the snowmobiles were left inside the machines, and everyone but Apex mounted them and started the engines.

"Oi Apex hurry your ass up, I don't wanna be near this place when she blows up."

"Yah really." Trojan smirked as Apex got on the snowmobile next to him.

"Aye I hear yeh...lead the way." He waved his hand at the woods that slanted down the mountain side and followed his men out until they reached a safe enough distance.

"Ah I love this part," he said pulling out the detonator and triggering it with a faint click.

"You're fucking crazy you know that?" Vulture said watching the fiery mushroom cloud that followed the explosion. The red bars of the tower screamed before falling down into the flames.

* * *

_"Alpha, Bravo are a go."_ The sound of MacTavish's voice rang through Ghost's earpiece. He came out of his crouch from behind his tree and turned the frequency to the one the informants were on.

"Blaž this is Ghost, any guards in the back towers?" It took a few moments for the man to reply.

_"Da there are; I will deal with them for you and open the gate as soon as your Captain starts his attack."_

Ghost had the team creep up to the closest snow drift which was still about two hundred yards away from the gate and the growing blizzard shielded their advance.

He watch with some twisted satisfaction as Yankee jumped some when the camp's sirens started to wail over the sounds of somewhat distant gunshots. Peeking over the top of the drift he saw the telltale flashes of gun fire in the left guard tower and a minute later in the right. The gate started to open as smoke billowed from the other side or the camp, making him wonder just what exactly MacTavish's distraction was.

_"Okay I'll wait for you at the gate, but hurry before they realize the east end isn't secure."_

"Stay on me." Ghost met the blue eyes of his team before getting up and jogging over to gate, ignoring the cold that bit into his flesh at the wet spots on his clothes from laying in the snow.

Blaž was waiting for them at the gate as promised; Ghost noted the fresh forming black eye and split lip on the younger man.

"Follow me." He said, cocking back the hammer on his metal handgun it resembled a colt but it was modified, the barrel was longer than it was meant to be and the handle was a pearl color.

"Schüttle is still in the infirmary with his two guards. I know Nadezhda will do her best to protect the prisoners but I don't know for how long. Consider the infirmary insecure." he approached the concrete building that was on the north wall of the camp.

Ghost wrinkled his nose at the smell of death and bad hygiene. Ignoring the sudden voice of Roba in his head, telling himself it wasn't real even though it felt as such.

_"This is your mother's skull, this is your father's skull, this is your brother's skull, this is Gary's skull."_ Ghost's stomach twisted with the sudden rise of panic and his body felt like it was vibrating, when in fact he stood still and motionless blinking at the nothingness that Roba had become once again.

"Ghost?" Exxon said from behind him as Yankee strode past them to stand by Blaž at the door.

"On your lead." he told Blaž .

"Okay stay hidden." he raised his voice to be heard over the shouts he opened the door and then waved the men in. The room was simple and fed into a short hallway that was lined by a door on each side and one straight ahead. It had a window that was stained yellow by age and from what could be seen through it was possibly a staircase. Blaž came to the left door first and banged on it.

"Garrou otkryvayut·sya oni vtorglisʹ v vostochnye vorota!"

The door unlocked quickly and swung open, the man quickly met his fate at the end of Blaž´s gun, a bullet hole between his eyes and half his head splattered against the doorway and into the room. The opposite door opened at the sound of gunfire and Ghost raise his ACR bullets flying with deadly precession and pierced the chests of the two men that ran out. They fell dead at the Serbian mans feet and he was covered in most of their blood spray.

"Thanks." he sounded sincere as he wiped the blood from his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Yankee and Exxon guarded the door of the bunker as it swung open the Russian was met with the wicked blade in Yankee's hand and was pulled forward as Exxon slammed the door shut once again. Yankee pulled the blade from the mans throat and wiped the blood off on his thigh staining the white material.

Exxon guard the door, Yankee on my six." Ghost said starting forward again following Blaž to the end of the hallway.

"The prisoners are likely on the second floor with Nadi but no guarantees. " He swung open the door, gun in his left hand. For a prison camp under attack it was eerily silent. The siren had finally stopped it's screams and the shouts and gunshots outside had become silent.

"Something's off here." Ghost said becoming suspicious of Blaž the barrel of his gun aiming that much closer to the back of the man.

"Da there's about twenty guards on the west gate, sixteen in the cellblocks, groups of five in patrol teams, and ten guards here along with nurses and well the three doctors we just killed, yet they all not show besides the towers an west gate. The chaos is missing." Blaž wondered out loud equally confused and totally oblivious to Ghost's implications.

A faint click made Ghost spin around back to the hallway, just as it exploded. He felt himself fly back into the room, his arms shielded his face as best he could against the flames that threw him back. Yankee became quickly engulfed in the fire and Exxon's fate became unknown to him as the back of his head ricocheted off the concrete floor.

* * *

MUAHAHAHHAHA and you thought youd see a rescue! ahhh the dark side's cookies never tasted oh-so-sweet :) anyways yah i have Chapter ten and eleven written also but i decided to hold them **ransom**.:) hehe so heres the deets as to how to get them faster...review!, but not just any review Oh no muchacho, im talking a decent review! saying just "UPDATE I LIKED" doesnt count. talk about the chapter, the characters so far, anything like that...something you liked, something you hated...that kind of mumbo jumbo. And well as for the number of reviews thatt will will free chapters ten and eleven from the clutches of godzilla...well its a secret so R&R!

ahhh this evil thing is nicccee no? xp


	10. Gareth Gabriel Sanderson, USMC, TF141

"Ostanovite, pozhaluĭsta prosto perestatʹ yemu bolʹno!" Ghost cringed at the throbbing in his head and the pitch of the woman's shouts. His mind was too cloudy at the moment to process the Russian language clearly, only making out the words 'please' and 'hurting'.

Something held him tight against a chair as he jerked forward some, the cold air on his blistered skin telling him his mask was off. The smell of smoke and burnt flesh met his nose and he felt sick.

There was a scream that filled his ears next, it was hoarse and tortured sounding, forcing Ghost to open his eyes. Only one of them complied, the other was too swollen. They were in a warehouse almost, cells lined the wall on the right and the shouts of Russian and a few other languages suggested they were filled with prisoners. The rest of the room was vast, only a few beds, desks, and medical equipment occupied the area in clumps. A few of the beds held what once could have been considered a human being on them, but were now just bones with skin stretched over the top. Some of them moved, others were still as death.

Ghost groaned when someone grabbed his jaw and jerked it up, something shined in his eyes bringing about white spots in his vision. His head throbbing that much more.

"Nice of you to join us Brit" the man sneered as Ghost jerked his jaw free of his grasp.

Looking up towards the man he recognized from the informants photo as Dietrich Schüttle he glared.

"Why are you here?"

"Go shove it up your arse." Schüttle nodded and he earned a solid fist to his stomach by a large pale haired Russian standing next to him.

The man sighed and turned around, Ghost looked past him suddenly noticing Exxon and Yankee strapped down on gurneys. Their clothes smoking slightly and raspy groans escaped the Linguists throat. From what he could see the Italian got the brute of the bomb.

Nazedha was handcuffed to a fixture in the wall past them. Her left cheek was split and bleeding some, and whatever gear she had on earlier was gone. Leaving her in black underwear and a worn white tanktop. In short, she looked pissed. Her eyes met his for a moment before she looked away anger and guilt on her face.

"You fucking traitor." Ghost growled as his eyes found the other informant standing loyally with the group of guards that surrounded them all.

The left half of Blaž's face was oozing a clear liquid,out of the charred skin on his cheek and jaw, to which he dabbed at with some antiseptic gel. He returned Ghosts glare, but said nothing back.

"Now Brit we can make this easy or we can make this hard, why are you here?"

"I'm sure he's already told you," Ghost jerked his head in Blaž's direction, ignoring the wave of dizziness it caused.

Schüttle sighed and waved someone behind Ghost over. Confused he craned his neck back trying to see who the prison guard was walking over. His heart stopped.

The sun-kissed skin, earned by training long hours during his time as a Marine in Afghanistan, was replaced by a sickly white color, his limbs had a slight purple tinge to them and he shook some as if cold. There was a limp in his gait, his body once strong and muscular with youth and hard training now resembled that of Jewish prisoner during Hitler's reign for the Reich that never was. Hell Simon could easily count his ribs. Easily.

Green eyes were now dull and almost lifeless, rimmed by dark circles giving him a raccoon effect that made the hollowed cheeks look that much worse. A thin silvery line ran across his right cheek and another scar was under the line, a crudely carved Russian word. Strong. The sweatpants that hung from pale hipbones were ragged and stained with blood, fresh blood.

Simon wanted to kill them all. But at the same time he just wanted Gary to look at him.

The same blonde Russian that had punched him in the stomach, held onto Gary's shoulder as he pushed him to stand a few feet in front of him. Gary looked scarred and paid no attention to his comrade in front of him. Just stared at the ground as if it were the most amazing thing he'd seen in a long time.

"Gary..." his voice was faint sounding and his heart thrummed like a hummingbird in his chest.

Gary didn't even respond to his name. And Schüttle grinned walking forward to stand in Ghosts line of sight.

"Let's try this again, why are you here?"

"G...Gary look at me please?"

Schüttle frowned "Wrong answer." He stepped back giving Ghost full view of the catatonic skeleton that was named Gary Sanderson and gave a sharp nod to Ivan.

Gary screamed as he was slammed down hard against the concrete floor his left arm was wrenched sharply up behind his back and Ivan slammed his weight forward. His screams turned hoarse and tortured as the cartilage and tendons in his shoulder gave way with slick pops and something that sounded like the crunching you get when you chew on ice.

"STOP STOP! STOP IT!" Simon screamed at Schüttle, he slammed against his chair and the cuffs sliced into his wrists and cut off the circulation to his hands. But he didn't feel it.

Schüttle waved his hand at Ivan, who had halted in his actions at Simon's protests, to continue.

Gary was sobbing, and when Ivan returned to his actions, he did so slowly. Sometimes letting Gary's arm go back some before jerking it forward again. His screaming turned hoarse and his choked sobs shook his body by the time his humerus had fractured. He was numb and lost in his pain by the time his shoulder broke along with part of his collar bone.

Ivan let go of his arm and it fell limply back down to his side swelling quickly. Gary just cried and tried his best to cradle his arm, but stopped when the slight movement brought back the worst of the pain.

Ghost didn't even feel the moisture on his cheeks he just shook with rage and frustration. He'd finally found Gary, alive at that, and was helpless to save him. So fucking helpless.

He caught sight of Nazedha trying to block out what was going on, her eyes were red rimmed and her cheeks glistened with fresh tears. The guilt grew on her face when she caught his eye.

Schüttle spared her a glance before walking over to Gary.

"DONT FUCKING TOUCH HIM!" Ghost screamed at the German. Schüttle glared at him before stepping down on Gary's shoulder. Bringing back the ear splitting screams and making him sob even harder.

"I suggest you not tell me what to do Brit, for Gary's sake that is... Understood?" he lifted his boot off his shoulder the threat still in his eyes.

"Yes" Simon agreed quickly, sounding defeated.

"Good, now let's try this one more time. Why are you here?"

"To shut down the camp, you know that already."

"I do, but I want to hear you say it anyways," he agreed.

"I know exactly why you're here; I know that you're part of the 141, just as is Gary here; I know that you're a Lieutenant, your team Captain is John MacTavish... Oh yes I know most of it, thing is 'most of it' is just the first layer of the whole scheme of things, something you wouldn't understand and I will not tell you."

He fished for something in his lab coat and pulled out Ghost's radio, turning the volume dial up he listened.

"Ghost pick up... GHOST PICK THE DAMN RADIO UP!"

Schüttle answered the radio.

"We have your comrades, if you wish for them to stay alive I suggest you do as I say."

After a long pause MacTavish replied "I'm listening."

"Call off your attack, once you do I'll let you leave."

"Not without my men I won't."

"Ah your men, well, two of them are incapable of anything but breathing at the moment, another has be quiet lenient with information, and well Gary isn't yours anymore; the woman too."

"Fine."

Ghost knew John was feeding the German bullshit. He'd probably back off and plan a way to save them. Schüttle pocketed the radio once again, and walked over to where the burnt soldiers laid.

He leaned over examining Exxon first then Yankee, poking occasionally at charred skin earning a groan or two.

"Unchain the woman and let her treat these two."

Ohgren loomed over to Nazedha and unchained her manacles and pulled her to her feet. She glared at him and shouldered past, something he didn't like at all. Grabbing her shoulder and slamming her back against the wall he warned her. in Russian not to try anything before letting her go aid the burnt soldiers.

But Ghost only watched one person in the room, and that person was Gary.

"Gary...Gary... It's okay Gary I'm going to get you out...Gary please look at me" Ghost felt the back of his throat burn.

Gary just moaned, his sobs had turned hoarse and less intense.

"Stop calling me that."

Simon's heart sank. "Gary...thats your name, Gareth Gabriel Sanderson, you have a family in Murrieta, California. You know who I am dont you?"

"Go away,"he whispered, he was sitting now, cradling his arm that hung limp at his side in a awkward angle; head bowed in defeat the shaggy long brown locks were greasy and it would be a safe bet to say he had lice, he sniffled some and tears still leaked from the dull green eyes, that was the worst of it. His eyes. It killed Simon to see the life gone from them, Gary was always so full of life and optimism. Now, now Gary was a shadow, if that even.

"Did I permit you to speak 23?" Schüttle directed at Gary.

"He's not a bloody number!" Ghost growled out. The German didn't appreciate his out burst.

"Well I see you don't care for 23's well being. Ivan take 23 back to his cell and put the others with the other prisoners. Blaž come here."

Ghost glared at the "Loyalist" Nadezdha spit at him as he walked by, her hands peeling burnt clothes from burnt skin, earning pitiful moans from the charred men. Ivan grabbed Gary by the back of his neck to his feet, from there the Marine spared Ghost no glances as he was led away. Ignoring all of Simons plea's to stay. To just say something back.

He turned his attention back on the enemy when he hear the click of a hammer being pulled into place. Scüttle handed the pistol to the Serbian.

"Deal with her when she's done then come see me." he walked towards Ghost, taking out a syringe as he did so.

"What? You gonna knock me out?"he sneered as the German injected him.

"Not quite." The words sounded cloudy, and Simon's head spun and felt like it was going to explode at the se time, his limbs felt detached and numb. He could faintly feel his hands being freed along with his ankles. They tossed him in a cell with a few emancipated prisoners, if they wanted to they could jump him for his clothes, or, by the way the pale bearded old Russian was looking at him, pull a Hannibal Lector on him.

But it was the redheaded man and his brown haired shadow that came up to him.

"You tried to free us, why?" the red head addressed him.

Simons tongue felt thick in his mouth and he was positive he was drilling all over himself by now.

"..gu..wnf...".

"Looks like the German got to you, guess well have to wait for a more formal introduction, my name is Klien I was with the French Foreign Legion; this is Des, he's from the U.k. Special Forces... Welcome to hell."

Simon didn't really listen to what the man said, his mind could barely process the shock of seeing Gary again. His emotions were so twisted at the moment that he couldn't think straight, or that could be the drug...

Then the screaming started...

Simon knew it was Gary.

And when the gun shot rang out and echoed off the concrete acoustics of the building.

He knew it was the Loyalist.

Well here ya Go! and thank you all for being patient! Gary's POV will be back VERY SOON... and stay that way...just have to lay things out for the plot...lol thank you all who reviewed..it was halarious really! all of you called me evil :) MUAHAHAHAH i love it!


	11. Lights Out

_They left you here to die._

"..sh..shut up..."

_They did this to you._

"s..stop"

_They hate you Gary._

"SHUT UP!" I screamed as loud as I could. My throat burned with tears and the misuse. I pushed myself further into the corner of the small holding cell. The concrete was wet and rough against the skin on my back. But pain was unavoidable now. There will always be pain.

_Talk to me Gary, tell me everything...I'm your friend now._

"..Ple...please stop just get out of my head.." I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe.

* * *

_"SANDERSON GET DOWN!" a hand grabbed the back of my vest, pulling me down as bullets sprayed over my helmet, embedding into the sandstone wall behind us. "AMBUSH!" our commanding Sergeant screamed to the rest of our patrol group._

_"S..!" I scrambled for my gun, strapped to my person, as my hands shook._

_The screams of insurgents were everywhere, and my ears were ringing from the sudden gunfire. I managed to gain my head enough to grab my rifle. Tucked against a concrete barrier that lined the dirt road we were patroling moments before._

_PFC Nate Conzelas braced himself to my left before popping over the top of the barrier. His head exploded with a wet pop as the 50. caliber round came in just below his helmet. I could taste his blood in my mouth._

_"RETURN FIRE!" Sergeant Harris screamed at me. It was mechanical as training kicked in. Aim, fire, cover, aim, fire, cover, aim, fire, cover, reload. And all in the span of five minutes I had killed six men, and lost seven brothers._

_"NATE!" Corporal Kellan Rice ran up shoving past me and ignorant to the stray insurgents in the clay buildings not even a hundred yards across from us. His hands shook as he reached the dead headless body of his best friend his mumbles drowned out in the gunfire. He turned to me with wild eyes and tear streaks on his face, as I ducked down again after covering Seth Illings's run over to us. "You were supposed to cover him too... b..but you couldn't balls up to fight back...fuck you Sanderson.." he glared as he choked out his words. And he was right. The last bullet rang out from Rice's gun having slain the few remaining insurgents in a rage._

_We sat there ready and muscles taut for a few minutes before Harris gave the all clear, ordering us to gather the dead and hold the LZ for three minutes. _

_Death is a strange friend in war. Twenty of us cut down to thirteen in a matter of minutes, and looking at the faces of people I once knew, I did what any other coward rookie would do. I puked._

_When finished twisting itself inside out my stomach settled and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Trudging to help Skylar DeVasier carry the wounded Adam Frankfurt. The latter man's left leg and abdomen held the burrows of 45. caliber rounds. Loading the dead and wounded was an easy task and I stood guard of the helo with a grim faced Rice. _

_Dirt had clumped around the wet tracks on his cheeks and a pale beard could be seen creeping along his jaw. It was when I was climbing into the pave-low that the crack of gunfire first rang again. Something struck the back of my right shoulder and I was thrown forward into the pave-low. Sergeant Harris was barking orders at Rice to climb in. Turning despite the burn in my shoulder I grabbed the handgun holstered at my hip and fired at the enemy, who had taken under the same barriers we were hiding behind moments before._

_Then he turned to me his face blank, "Now that's what I call covering fire Sanderson," he started running away from the chopper. Someone held the Sergeant back from jumping out after Rice as the pilot stated we had reached too low of fuel and if we stayed it would be certain no one would be coming home outside of a cedar box. _

_And as we rose above the unforgiving land of Afghanistan I watched a man run into certain death with a smile on his face and his best friends blood on his hands._

* * *

Gagging a few times as I gasped around my sobs I cradled my arm and wondered what the fuck just happened.

"Get up American." Ivan grumbled as the iron keys clacked against the cell door and he slid back the deadbolt.

"Stay away from me." My voice was small but it felt good to use it for other than screaming.

"Quite lippy now with your friends here. Wana help me show them how much of a screamer you really are?" I flinched as his boots came closer. Don't touch me, don't touch me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. His hand grabbed my hair and he hoisted me to my feet and I yelped as he did so. The 'Doctor' came in before Ivan could do anything more, making him let go of my hair and I retreated back to my corner as he did so. They spoke in Russian, quickly and angrily.

"You," the smaller man pointed to me "Stand and come to me." He pointed at his feet. I struggled to my feet, tears coming to leak out of my eyes as I stirred my shoulder, but did as I was told.

"Follow me." I limped after the 'Doctor' my head felt fuzzy and light from the endorphins kicking in to block the pain every step gave me. My face hurt, my legs hurt, everything hurt.

We walked past the man again he was silent but looked up at us as we crossed.

"Gary..." he pleaded looking at me. He fucking creeped me out and I frowned at him.

"Stop calling me that." Ivan slapped me in the back of the head and shoved me forward, my toes scuffed the cold wet floor but I didn't really have feeling in them so it didn't hurt like it normally would. "Don't talk unless permitted American," the 'Doctor' reminded me with a sideways glance. I looked away and said nothing more. He froze and swept a glance around the main room once again, frowning he walked over to the man tied in the chair.

"Where is the girls body and your men?"

"Beats me Nazi," the man shrugged, the word 'Nazi' rolled off his toung as if it tasted bitter to even say.

"Wrong answer," he waved his hand at Ivan. I knew what that wave usually meant and bolted but my legs were week, I still think the left one is fractured from not resting it. Ivan grabbed my shoulder and I fought the urge to puke as stars danced behind my eyes. I think I started screaming but Ivan punched me hard in my stomach and I found myself on the floor trying to breathe.

"CELL THIRTEEN !" the man jerked in his chair and stared at me with wild eyes. It was his fault Ivan was even beating me today, I've been good all week and the man shows up and I get beat for things he says. I glared at his panicked blue eyes. The 'Doctor' jerked his head towards Ivan,"Go check it out, then meet me back in room 101. Come American." I obliged happily now that Ivan was gone.

_Fight it Sanderson._

And for a brief moment things made sense: the man in the chair, the White room, Rice, this place, and most importantly just who exactly Gareth Sanderson was. Who I was. But as sson as the veil was lifted I lost all meaning again. My mind and body content on just getting through the day so it could rest.

"American walk," The 'Doctor' ordered we had come to the door labeled 101. A small white walled, white floored room, led to by inconspicuous tiled hallways. Besides the blinding pristine of the walls and the wreak of bleach, the room looked normal; much like our cells. A drain in the middle of the floor that was slightly caved inwards so the blood and whatever else that ended up on the floor could be washed away with the hose in the corner. Above the drain was a chair with leater bindings. Unlike the room it was black hard leather, crusted with a rust colored layer. I started shaking backing up out of the room but someone grabbed my arm. There was a small black box under the chair and a tray that held the 'Doctor's' leather bag he was rarely seen without.

"Sit down American and things will be easier for the both of us, if not Serji will make you. The choice is yours."

So I sat, swallowing back the icy clump in my throat as the leather bindings were placed around my wrists and ankles, my fate sealing as the metal claps were hooked into place.

_Look at yourself kid you're a mess._

The onslaught of pain was sharp, my teeth clenched hard as my vision turned white. My joints felt as if they were being ripped apart strand by strand and breathing was all but a sharp hiss before my chest refused to expand once more. I smelt something burning, and faintly wondered if they just set me on fire.

My muscles contracted hard as a stronger wave of pain hit and my back arched so high off the chair I wondered if I were about to break my spine. I did not know whether the thing was really happening, or whether the effect was electrically produced. The pounding in my chest had turned into excrushiating stabbing pain and I set my jaw determined not to make a sound. To please them. My ears rung hard as the electricity was turned up, drowing out the shouts I could hear in the hall, and I tasted iron in my mouth. It felt like something snapped in my chest, like whiplash, but inside me. I couldn't help the choked sound that made its way past my lips.

The front door exploded, the metal door fell forward and in my failing vision I saw a man burst through, flanked by the man that took to wearing his mask again and two others, guns raised, their mouths moving in threats I couldn't hear over the ringing. The mohawked man fired his gun and my world faded with the blinding flash of his rifle.

* * *

yahhhh... youll love me late for the short chapter... :) and thanks to my beta mirai m. mieux and all the weird convos, brain storms, and minecraft wonders she has shown me... 8D oh god i forgot to space things out...here problem solved sorry its kinda a lame leave off...


	12. Hurt till its numb

"I've got a pulse!" Nadezhda announced shakily from the adrenaline of CPR. Her thin bruised hands moved skillfully over Gary's limp form, she had Zach holding a IV bag that was connected to the emancipated mans right arm by a thin clear tubing.

Despite the fact that his heart had stopped nearly four minutes ago Gary had already started to come to. Occasionally his eyes would flutter open and his mouth opened and closed slightly, completely oblivious to everything around him but alive nonetheless.

Blaz, Toad, Archer, and Kahuna had started loading Exxon and Yankee in Nikolai's pave low while Archer stood guard with Vulture. The constant drone of Russian celebrations and helicopter blades were wearing away at Ghosts nerves and he wanted to do nothing more than to hold onto his friend, to make sure all of it was real and not some twisted dream from the pit of his fucked up mind. Gary... He was alive. Viktor and many other loyalists were directing prisoners to the appropriate helicopters most, besides two S.A.S members, ended up going with the Loyalists.

Blaz had distanced himself from Ghost to the best of his abilities within the confines of the pave low. Despite the fact the Serbian had indeed been on their side the whole time, the men under his command had been harmed, good intentions aside.

"How's he holding up?" MacTavish broke the tension worriedly, sweat had broke across the Scotsman's brow and mingled with a small cut on his right temple.

"He should not be alive, he's severely malnourished, the shock treatment interrupt the electrical signals in his heart but he seem stable now." Nadezhda barely muttered over the drone of the rotor wings. Her hands moved nimbly over Gary's body, applying gauze and ice where she deemed necessary before turning her attention to Yankee and Exxon.

Exxon was moaning in his own tongue and shook feverishly. Simon recognized the signs of shock setting in all three men, most prominently in the charred Italian.

Archer and Kahuna were put to work opening and applying gauze to the burned flesh on both men, exciting a few yelps from Exxon and obscenities from Yankee.

"Ghost you're bleeding," MacTavish studied his lieutenant who was occupied staring a hole into Gary's side of the cockpit with a lost look in his eyes.

"He'll be okay Simon."

"Sure he will, he didn't fucking know his own name, he didn't recognize me."

"They kept him on a high drug regimen." the brown haired S.A.S P.O.W spoke with a gravely cockney accent, promoting the presence of the two men.

"What regiment are you from?" Soap asked leaning forward from his seat besides Gary.

"Ah what was it? 470th? 296th? I don't really remember." he replied with a touch of amusement in his voice. Enticing a smirk from the lighter haired man beside him. The slight level of insanity radiating off them reminded John of Simon whenever he was in one of his darker moods.

"Do you know your names then?" Simon said with a knowing look in his eyes, even though he hadn't moved out of the slight hunched position he'd been in for quite a while now.

"Des...Desmond Finley"

"Eric Klien"

"We'll see what we can-"

"L...liem .." Gary feverishly mumbled, shaking his head back and forth weakly, eyebrows furrowed.

"He's been saying that a lot in his sleep." Klien seemed unbothered by the mutterings.

Nadezhda was stringing Russian curses as she hurried wrapping and icing Yankees arm her before making her way back to Gary.

"His temperature is spiked, I suggest you test for infection at your base, his leg look bad no?" she motioned towards the gauze wrapped limb. John had seen it before it'd been wrapped, for the most part it was scarred but the area around it was a few shades of color. His other leg looked... off, it seemed shorter and was heavily bruised, not that the rest of the young Americans skin wasn't. It was disturbing to say the least, it hurt just to look at the physical state he was in, the scars, bruises, hell he was even missing his ring fingers and carved like a holiday poultry.

"It's a few hours till we reach base, Viktor just radioed that he's picked up the others, they'll arrive a few hours after us but seem fine," Nikolai informed them tilting back as he did so.

"Good give Viktor my regards." Soap said with some relief. A light tap on his knee made him jump slightly, looking down and meeting the wide pale eyes of the Russian.

"Sorry, I give them morphine?" she held a small vile up and looked hesitant.

"Sure," he instructed, watching as the men stopped writing after a few moments of being given the drug, and Gary stopped mumbling 'Liem'.

Flux yawned and rubbed his face vigorously to stay awake, catching the attention of the other men.

"Sleep if you can, it's a long flight back, you've all done well." MacTavish spoke loud enough for everyone to hear before leaning is head back against the olive colored metal of the pave low. Making a mental note to reward his team he closed his eyes and let his mind wander.

* * *

Three days it had taken to stabilize Gary, and within those three days his heart had stopped multiple times during the night. His head was shaven to get rid of the lice in the tangled matting of brown 'hair' and his face was shaven for the same reason. A feeding tube peeked out of his left nostril and was filled with a repulsive yellow food substitute, but calorie packed to start his recovery from malnutrition. His gaunt face was wrapped, leaving the left side of his face unwrapped as red angry scars peaked out on his cheek. His nose was swollen from having to re-break it and straighten it back out.

His shoulder had swelled and in most places was a darker purple than a grape, screws had to be placed in his collar bone, the breaks in his shoulder blade were hairline fractures but most of the ligaments were damaged. Doc had told them that it would take another surgery to repair the damage once the bones healed and the swelling died down. His femur had to be re-broken and straightened out also, and he wore a full leg cast as a result. There were still tests running, and many more to take to know the full extent of the man's injuries, as a result an IV fed high doses of pain killers and antibiotics to the thin pale arm it was attached to.

He would have stayed there, sitting in the cream walled room, watching Gary as he would wake for small fractions of a second and occasionally mumble 'Liem' into the mint colored oxygen mask. He didn't mind the smell of illness or cleaning products, even the hint of iron in the air didn't bother him. The plastic chair was like a throne as he sat and watched, content.

The light rapping of knuckles on the door caught his attention and he deviated his attention to the lean muscled Native American standing awkwardly, his honey colored eyes glancing every so often at Sergeant Sanderson.

"Sir I ran the name you requested and the only 'Liem' I can find is a Liem Sanderson, Gary's younger brother, he received a status of death regarding Gary almost a month ago. Shepard's monkey's managed to stay under our radar on that one til now, sorry Sir." Jay handed a copy of the death notice to MacTavish.

"Gary's been asking for him, I'd think it best if the lad woke up with his brother around."

"Uhm still on the subject of brainless primates Shepard requested your presence, he's not too happy about the whole under the thumb operation… but if you ask me I think it went quite well, I mean you saved all thos-"

"-Jay you're ranting lad, tell him I'll be there in a moment."

"Oh and Doc told me to tell you that Jake should be awake sometime tomorrow and there doesn't seem to be any long term damage, and what else…Oh and the skin grafts are doing well for Yankee and Exxon so… uh yah I think that's all I needed to tell you…" He moved as he talked.

"Thank you Jay, I'll be out in a moment."

"Figured I'd take watch while you get drilled." The man smirked behind his mask as Soap made his leave.

"I'll need your help later Simon."

* * *

It always starts with something. A push factor. A antagonist. The bottled up fear and dread that pops open as the truth is poured out. As the hope is killed by cold, calculating, reality.

It came as a letter. It's always something so innocent, turned sinister. The day you'll never forget, the one that hurts like no other pain has before. It's the hope dying, it always hurts the most...hope. Funny word now, funny to stoop as low as to hope.

I have the letter, the one that killed me. It sits unmoving on the faded polish of our grandfathers dresser. He would have been so proud of Gareth, following in his footsteps as a Marine. But now he's gone, they both are. They're probably in some paradise now laughing at me, at how pathetic I had become.

Let them laugh, at least they are together now, safe. I hold the mail in my hand, some are bills, far overdue for pay; resulting in no running water or electricity, it's not like I needed it anyways. My ship out date is tonight, part of me hopes I'll never come back, another part wants nothing more than to save the world. Fucking messiah complex, Gary had it too, we probably got it from mom, she was always so sweet when she wasn't whoring her way into the next best status quo.

The echo of faux church bells announced a visitor at my front door.

"Sanderson hurry the hell up! Jackson wants us ready early, maybe we can swipe some Gucci from the 820th SF if we're early!" Kyle shouted at me through the door, and continued to do so when I opened it.

It just made the pounding in my head worse, I wanted nothing more than to go to sleep , having stayed up late for patrol rounds.

"I'm coming just shut up." I shut the door on him and jogged two stairs at a time to my room, snagging the letter off my dresser and shutting the door. Hesitantly I found myself at Gary's door, I hadn't been in there since he came back for my high school graduation nearly two years ago.

It smelt like him, the god awful natural herbal soap he used because everything else gave him a rash; it smelt like lemon, pine, and sage. Then there was his habit of re-wearing sweaty gym gear, even his barbells smelt like stale sweat still.

God I missed him.

Looking back to simple things like his voice, I find nothing, my mind had just shut off from basic function after he left for some new squad, he stopped writing, calling, emailing, he just stopped any communications with me. That hurt most of all. I tried calling him when dad died, the old man had begged to talk to him but all I got was a full voicemail box. Mom, well she never was one to stick around. After I graduated high school she took off with some biker guy, part of me; a very large part doesn't want her to come back, and so far she hadn't.

None of it hurt worse than Gary's death though, not even close. I swiped at the tears on my face, took a deep breath to compose myself, and went back downstairs. Turning off the power breaker under the stair case and the ventilation system.

My duffle bag was a little less than full and I picked it up from the doorway, as a teen the weight would have had met arms burning an struggling with the weight. Now it was like nothing, but I was still by far the same scrawny high schooler I grew up as, I'd only managed to gain ten pounds despite the large amounts of MRE's I ate. My free hand fiddled with the leather bracelet Gary made me when I graduated. It was engraved with 'usque in finem', Latin for until the end. I'd thought about burning it since I got the letter, but as of the moment I couldn't bring myself to follow through with the plan.

Kyle was sitting on the steps when I opened the door.

"The little princess got her shit ready now?" he grumbled as he got up, dusting bits of dirt off his uniform.

"Fuck you man, I've been running on six of Neilson's Rip-Fuel for forty eight hours."

"He's gona be talking the whole fucking flight isn't he?" Kyle sounded slightly terrified as we got into his truck and he started the engine, the blessed air conditioner was on full blast, relieving some of the miserable nausea and muscle aches from no sleep.

"Fuck I just can't wait to get into the fight bout time we get to shoot some haji, ten bucks says he talks about haji and vagina the whole time." I offered closing my eyes and laying the seat all the way back.

"You're on, I bet you he'll ramble more than that."

"I've spent three days with him on patrol and gear count, you're gona be a poor son of a bitch before this war is over."

" Man this war ain't ever gona end, first the haji, and now were kicked out of Iraq to get stuck in Afghanistan, while the Russians are gaining strength every place we don't happen to be at. I hear Africa is getting bad... Man I just can't wait to fuck shit up you know?"

" I hear ya, now let me sleep or I'm going to punch you in the throat."

"That's actually a good idea, I think I'll test it out on Neilson."

I wrenched my eyes open some and glared his way "If you don't shut up I'm going to test it out on you."

He flipped me off but shut up nonetheless, letting me catch some much needed rest before our flight out.

* * *

"Wake up Sanderson! Time to kick some haji ass! " James Neilson was inches from my face as I woke up.

"When I wake up, the last thing I want to see is your fucking hick ass mug," I grumbled shoving him away, my nose wrinkling at the smell of chew, a part of me ached for a nicotine fix of my own but I dropped smoking a year ago after it started to make my training harder.

"Aww Sleeping Beauty wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?" he mocked me cooing.

" Sleeping Beauty hasn't slept in two days, she's fucking pmsing," I grumbled thickly as I grabbed my bag out of the truck bed, nicking some of the grey paint off the edge. I decided against telling Kyle.

"Sanderson a moment please." Sam Jackson, my CO said approaching me and then leading us a few feet away from the squad.

"Is there a problem sir?" I asked antsy at the grim look on his face.

"You won't be shipping out with us, and I know son you have some of the best skills I've seen in a soldier, but there was a request... more of a demand from General Shepard himself that you stay to be escorted to one of his facilities. That's all I know." I felt like I was going to puke, the words sinking into my stomach like a block of ice. All the training, all the struggle and pain I went through trying to be better than what was thought of me. For nothing.

"S-sir... I don't follow what you just said, I can't just stay here. What would a Army General want with me anyways I'm fresh meat, I haven't even fired my gun out of the range." I reasoned tightening my grip on my duffle bag as if the harder I squeezed the more likely I would fly out with the rest of my team tonight.

"I was trying to avoid the subject altogether son but it's about your brother."

If I felt sick earlier, I was plague ridden now, and could feel the color drain from my face.

"My brothers dead if he wants to talk ghosts tell him he can do so over Skype or something." I said swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth, succeeding in making it worse.

"I'm sorry Sanderson but these are high orders, maybe next time son." he said patting my shoulder once before walking back to the squad.

I headed straight for the bathrooms inside the air base. Luckily I was alone in the pastel tiled, multi-stalled bathroom, and I dropped my bag as soon as I made it through the door and rushed to the nearest porcelain bowl, retching my lunch. MRE's are bad enough the first time around, and the second well... It wasn't pleasant at all.

I couldn't help the sobs that racked my body as soon as I finished my task, why the hell would someone come this late along since Gary's death to talk about it? The Marine Chaplains tried and failed seeing as I was finishing up training and no one else really gave a damn. But now a month later some fucking General had to come along and fuck up the first thing that didn't feel like a motion to me anymore.

I cried until I choked, I puked again, cried some more, gagged, and by the time I couldn't cry anymore the hole in my stomach had its own icy heartbeat, my throat was hoarse, and I was shivering in the bathroom stall. And I didn't give a damn about the few people that came in, and luckily minded their own business. I wiped my mouth and eyes before standing and venturing back out of my stall and to my bag.

Nicotine was a bad addiction, I craved it, I needed it; but it made me sick and the want and need died soon after, and it's not my body that wanted the smoke or chew, but my mind. And after I quit, the want died into nothing but a memory of what it felt like on that first drag of a cigarette.

But the one thing that never ceased to work, when the alcohol made me sadder and the nicotine left me irritable and sick; was the blade. Whenever I got really down about things, Mom, Dad, and more recently and exceptionally Gary, I could make it go away. I could make the hurt inside less than the hurt outside and a few times, rally up enough endorphins so I could smile some without it feeling fake.

And I craved it more than any other fix.

Grabbing my razor out of my bag I went back into my stall and killed the pain and anger, at first it was shallow, slow, movements, then deeper, faster ones.

I wanted to hurt the hurt. And the burning in my forearms started to dull everything down into calm as I bled and waited till it started to scab before I flushed the toilet again, pocketing the razor and cleaning up any blood that missed the bowl.

I went straight to washing my arms off, the water cleansed the gore to reveal twelve new marks on my left arm, three of them were deeper than I'd normally risk, and I sported four marks on my right arm, seeing how it was my dominate hand I didn't want to risk it as much as I would my left.

I dabbed at the cuts with a paper towel until I was sure they weren't going to bleed through my camos, then rolled down my sleeves carefully, walking to my bag and grabbing hold of the strap.

I settled on waiting by the window walled section of the airbase, propping myself against the wall opposite of the window in front of me so I could watch the planes coming in. I didn't know who to look for or what time they were arriving; my eyes drooped and felt like weights, the pounding in my head was back. I sat, leaned back into the wall, and closed my eyes.

* * *

**Sorry for the wait been busy and brainless! And big amount of distracted review! Hopefully this wasn't confusing and that you all for reviewing and adding my story to favorites/alerts! lets see if we cant reach 100 reviews? *looks hopeful*** **my next chapter should be up soon after this one, sorry about the length grouping! Sorry if its not as fancy as the eariler stuff, kind of a filler chapter but not at the same time... lemme know if you had trouble understanding anything! ID LOVE A REVIEW ...8D  
**


	13. BrothersI

Leaving Gary with reluctance, it brought him peace of mind to see Simon leap at the opportunity to watch over the young man instead of doing whatever the hell he did by himself. It took but a few minutes to cross the compound, noticeably quieter than normal, and reach his office.

"Sir," John inclined his head slightly towards the General who was gazing out the blinds of the Captains office.

He didn't speak, not at first. Just stared out the window contemplating the situation.

"You intentionally risk the lives of your men, my men." His tone was measured not to express any emotion.

"Not one of the men asked to leave when the chance was given, they knew the risk yet, did not back out. No one forced them on that helo," MacTavish said proudly of his men, both the living and the fallen.

"Staff Sergeant James Chino is deceased," a yellow folder left the General's hand and landed on the cluttered desk to his right.

"Technical Sergeant Jake Flamers is in critical condition." Another file left his hand to land on the desk. MacTavish shifted uneasily on his feet, not denying the guilt that began to stir at the casualties counting up on his desk.

"Master Sergeant Jason Hill has second and third degree burns over forty percent of his body," The file left his hand.

"Linguist Federico Lawchowski, sixty percent," Another file, another casualty.

"I understand there were a lot of lives at risk..."

"Four unnecessary casualties for the life of one man, not to mention I had to pull strings while the Board was questioning where all these expenses and dead terrorists were coming from." His blue eyes turned to inspect the war hardened man he was consulting.  
"Captain as of now you and your team are hereby disbanded until this situation clears up and I know what to think of it."

"Sir it was of my doing, there's no need to punish my me-"

"MY men Captain, my men, and as you said, no one forced them into that chopper." MacTavish stood stiffly in front of Shepherd. The bastard was making a ballsy move, he'd give him that. "One of my analysts informs me that Sergeant Sanderson is not deceased." The man said, poking around MacTavish's belongings before settling into the black mesh rolling chair tucked into the concave desk.

"He is alive, in bad condition but alive." The words felt fake on his tongue, like he was afraid that if he said it he'd wake up and find this all to be a dream. It wouldn't be the first time he'd dreamt of the Sergeant back in safety.

"Shame I had his file closed a month ago." Shepherd paused for a moment. "Since you're no longer busy I recommend familiarizing yourself with the Sergeant's family, I'm sure they'll be thrilled to find your little escapade proved to debunk that pesky little letter."  
MacTavish was startled to hear the news-he had Jay run scans for information like this, he was surprised to find that "Shepherd's monkeys" had gotten past the tech wizard.

"You're dismissed." The older man looked pointedly at him. Saluting and turning sharp on his heel, MacTavish went to find Price. After much wandering he had found the man in the base garage, smoking a cigar while taking up conversation with Mech on motorcycles and whether or not Harley Davison could par against Ducati.

"Oi Price, a moment."

"What is it lad?" the man dropped the cigar to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot before walking out, meeting Soap halfway to the garage.

"Shepherd's pissed, as of now we're disbanded but the bastard needs us too much to make it a major issue. I'd give it a month or two before the bloody Yank cracks. Until then he has more or less recommended bringing Gary's brother here, the bastard sent out death notices to his family a month ago."

Upon hearing the last bit of news Price's eyebrows knitted together deepening the stress lines already on his face, eyes squinting ever so slightly.

"We ran filters daily there were no records of the letters being sent."

"Aye I figured he just didn't bother to document the file on this one, perhaps his way of getting back at me for vanishing with the team."

"I wouldn't hold it above him."

"Jay is archiving a file for me but why don't you fly out with me to pick the lad up for old time's sake."

* * *

"Excuse me lad but, sorry to wake ya but could you help us for a second?" A deep, accented voice broke through my consciousness; the speaker's foot lightly tapped my outstretched boot. I blinked slowly adjusting to the light, my eyes aching; everything was aching from the lack of sleep. Hell my teeth were hurting.

"Sure why not," I muttered getting up to my feet, hissing quietly at the pain caused by my sleeve that was once stuck to my arm, peeling away from the wounds as I moved but luckily nothing showed through. I rubbed my face with my right hand, my left fishing in my side pockets for my sunglasses.

"Do you happen to know a San... Oh what are the chances of that happening Price?" The man's hand waved at my direction as he spoke to another behind him. Looking up I saw a tall, rugged man with a mohawk, dressed in a navy colored uniform with two patches on the arm and his ranking clipped onto his collar as procedure; the man behind him was slightly shorter with a hint of brown stubble along his jaw, his uniform held no patches or signs of rank and there was a hat covering his eyes.

The bigger question was what was an UK Captain and an old man doing in Air Force training base.

"So what is it I can help ya'll with?"

"Do you happen to be Airman First Class Liem Sanderson?" the older, bearded man asked.

"Yes sir" I saluted, standing at attention as procedure called for as my mind started to catch up with formalities.

"At ease. I'd be shocked if you weren't, you look an awful lot like your brother." The older man mused, my jaw clenched at the reminder. The man next to him cleared his throat and stepped forward, as if he could see my temper rising and he sought to lessen the tension now between us.

"So y'all are the ones sent to pick me up?" I spoke before he could.

"Aye, I'm Captain MacTavish, and this here is Captain Price," The UK Captain spoke.

So these were the bastards sent to bother me about my brother. I could feel anger start to boil in my gut as I schooled my features at the knowledge.

"We need to discuss this somewhere more private. You look tired lad, we should fly out and then discuss matters."

I pursed my lips a few times, closing my mouth before I let out a retort I'd end up regretting later, settling instead on a "Yes sir" before following them out to the tarmac as I felt another headache coming on.

* * *

Liem Sanderson was a more reserved version of his brother, but that could be explained by the looks he had given them before he'd fallen asleep. His hazel eyes held so much hurt and hate at the same time, it made Soap feel even guiltier for having the death notice slip through their grasp.

Besides his demeanor Liem was nearly physically identical to Gary; the only things separating the two from being clones was the fact that Gary was a few inches taller, face slightly more angled with a wider mouth, and the dimple in his chin that his younger sibling was missing. A questionable fact considering the dimple was a dominant trait.

They had let the young soldier sleep on the flight over from Lackland Air Force Base, and now were five minutes out from the Task Force's main base on an 'uncharted' island bordering the Tropic of Capricorn and west of South America. Deciding it a good time to wake the kid, John made his way across the cockpit to the catatonic soldier. Gently shaking the man's knee he waited until hazel eyes groggily opened "Eh lad, we're landing soon, but we need to talk a moment before doing anything further."

"M'kay," He responded, his voice scratchy as he coughed a few times to clear his voice of sleep. Soap could catch a wince when he moved to stretch his arms out before settling on folding them across his chest.

"About a month ago you received a letter didn't you?" He asked causing the small tick in Liem's jaw to reappear as he clenched his teeth, his face sobering from sleep immediately.

"What about it?" he replied forcing the words a little as he glared at the ground.

"I need for you to know that the letter was a mistake. It was never meant to be sent."

"Yah I bet it was wasn't it? You know that I hadn't talked to my brother for two years ever since he left the Corps and joined up with God-knows-what, man... the last thing I'd said to him..." He trailed off shaking his head, his eyes starting to gloss over and John could swear he heard the kid's teeth grinding.

"Son, look at me," he stressed, feeling the situation going downhill fast. He was greeted by reddened eyes with tears threatening to spill. "Gary is not dead. He's been badly injured, but I assure you he's alive. He's been asking for you too." He emphasized his words some as if speaking to a small child.

"B-but we had a funeral, we buried him..." Liem muttered, confused as he glanced down at the ground.

"Hmm...I'll have to look into that-but your brother's in the infirmary at this moment. As soon as we land I can take you to him."

Liem just nodded his head, swallowing his tears looking obviously torn, like he wanted to believe what he was being told but afraid to hope. Unsure of what else he could do to comfort the kid Soap got up and took his seat as the chopper began to descend.

"That went well," Price commented dryly, looking at the young man viscously wipe at his tears.

"Say what you will." MacTavish sighed, rubbing his head. "They had a funeral for Gary...how did that slip through?"

"I guess a lot of things Shepherd did got past us." Price replied. "It wasn't exactly easy to keep it all hidden, but Jay did his best."

"Aye, I know. But I still don't ge-"

"Stop thinking about it so much Soap. We'll look into it later. For now, you got to get two brothers reacquainted with one another." Price said gruffly, watching Liem gathering his belongings, aware of the stiffness that he moved his arms with.

The minute they landed, the three were walking to the infirmary, Liem trailing behind them slowly. John didn't know if it was nerves keeping the younger Sanderson behind them, or if it was trying to understand exactly where they were. They passed by a few men, most of them turning to see the younger man following them, looks of curiosity on their faces.

"Who exactly are you?" Liem asked, shifting his bag on his shoulder. Both captains turned to look at him, glancing at each other before Price replied.

"Can't tell you."

"What do you mean, you can't tell me? My brother was working for you! I have a right to know!" Liem argued. John gave a hard look.

"That's irrelevant."

"Do you allow mail?" the boy suddenly asked, it appeared Gary wasn't the only Sanderson with possible ADD.

"Yes all basic military standards here are the same, why?"

"Just wondering... why's he in the infirmary?"

They had entered the two story building that served as the base's hospital, Liem's steps faltering some as he made himself more aware of his surroundings instead of studying the dirt as if guessing all the different minerals and rock it was composed of. He followed behind still, this time it was evident nerves was the cause, his fingers dancing against his leg as a sweat started to bead on his forehead. They stopped in front of the door dividing them from Gary.

"You need to be prepared to see the condition your brother is in. I'm not even authorized to release this information to you yet until the paperwork's done but your brother spent the last five months as a POW-" MacTavish paused letting that bit of information sink in and was rewarded with Liem's clenched jaw "- and as a result you need to expect that he is underweight, bandaged, and attached to machines to help him. Do you want us to stay out here or go in with you?" The young Airman pursed his lips, mouth opening and closing as he stood stiff at attention, a habit most new recruits had.

"Can I see him alone?"

"We'll be right down the hall if you need us. He may be asleep right now but you can stay with him until twenty-one hundred hours." With that both captain's backed away from the door as the younger Sanderson hesitantly stepped forward before rolling his shoulders, and slipped inside the room.

Well thank you Miru foups stating for me! So the deal is I've been in Ireland for a little over a week now and needed her to post this update for me..seeing as how wifi amoungst A LOT of other good things , are not common here...:/ I have been living off of ritz crackers for the past week but the place itself is very beautiful, if you go it's great sightseeing but the roads are narrow the food quality is nearly as tasty as cardboard, and no offense to anyone but comp**ared the people here are on the lazy side, again no offense:P but yah great place to sightsee! Uhm I have no clue as to why the text switched to bold font but I'm on my phone so I can't exactly fix it .. Well I've had loads of spare time on my hands between overnight flights and delays at the airports so when I land tomorrow and if there's wifi I guess you may get a present:) thank you to my lovely beta and those(only one?two?) reviewers! The story again I'm laying things out so as of now the plot is going to slow down for ehh a few more chaPters... Before it quite possibly ends hehe you'll see... Brothers is going to be around a three or four part info that will set things up then the pace shall err should pick up again(for those of you who have been waiting patiently as I've dragged things out) so again thank you all who've liked/favorites/watched/reviewed! You guys are awesome and thanks for being patient!**


	14. BrothersII

Simon always made a silent appearance.  
The damaged man held a cigarette between his lips, his mask pulled up over his nose, a long jagged scar peeking out along his cheek indenting the pale skin there.

"What are you muppets doing out here?" he said bobbing the cigarette in his mouth, the glow catching on a small scar on his lip, small crisp ashes falling lightly down to the floor as he inhaled.

"Giving Liem some time with Gary," MacTavish replied taking a swig of coffee from the small Styrofoam cup in his hand. The thick chicory aroma drifted from his cup, a welcome scent compared to antiseptic.

"Didn't think you'd find the kid so fast," the Lieutenant replied through a haze of smoke. The bruises of their latest mission still darkly covered the right half of his jaw and he walked with a bit of a limp.

"Soap managed to find the kid pretty fast; he followed us along pretty well with few questions."

"The kids pretty reserved though, Shepherd's held his deployment back a few weeks."

"Gary should be conscious soon." Simon put out his cigarette on the laminated floor before kicking it to the side and pulling his mask back down.

"That's good to hear," MacTavish replied with uncertainty, something they all shared.

"Don't expect him to be the same person he was before he was captured John," Price said.

"No fooling," Simon said with a scoff, a haunting look filling his pale blue eyes for a moment before dulling again.

"I know that, I just don't know how much Gary we saved out there, you said yourself he didn't remember you...he didn't remember his name for Christ's sake."

"We'll we've just got to help him the best we can, it'll be slow but there's no sense worrying yourself over something that may or may not remain with the lad, the best we can do now is wait and then figure out where we stand." Simon flicked his lighter on, flicked it shut, then back on and repeated in a steady pattern he was accustomed to. It was a tic of the man, a steady tapping, whether it was whispered wordlessly, or a movement, John found that it was a self-calming habit of his Lieutenant.

Although it calmed the man, after three minutes of the repetition John found himself going mad of the noise.

"What's Gary's brother like?" he asked sparking the lighter and watching it ignite.

"Young, tall, lanky-"

"I don't mean looks the guy could be a fucking dwarf for all I care, what he like is," he interrupted with a look of 'just-fucking-tell-me' on his face.

"Hard to tell, he didn't really believe us when we told him Gary was alive, he's guarded, quiet, and not very lively if you ask me."

"The buggers hiding something, his sleeves were bloody some," Price added.

"Hmmm interesting..." Ghost hummed lightly.

"I'm more interested in how the bugger passed Basic training without being caught," Price added, earring a chuckle from the men.

"Well let them get acquainted again, I'm sure it'll help Gary once he knows his brothers here, might even get the lad to straighten out before he takes off for deployment.

* * *

It was the whirring of machines, no, no it wasn't that. Perhaps the smell, hospitals always make me sick to my stomach. No not that either. I couldn't turn around to face my brother for heaven's sake; it was nerves, yes, yes just nerves. What would he be like now, what if it's not him, what if there was a mistake and the man behind me was not my brother? I had to know, yet, at the same time I did not want to.  
Turning around with baited breath I froze at the sight. Bandages covered most of his face, pale, he was so pale now. And skinny too, I never seen Gary gaunt before, it was like a law in physics , it just didn't happen. Not with Gary.  
His leg was casted to the thigh, more damage was there laying under all the bandages and cloth, but I didn't care. He was alive.  
Gary was alive.

I'd had dreams of seeing him again, of what I'd do when he came home and wasn't in a casket. All brazen in his dress uniform and a quirky smile on his face, ready to hit the town with me in Pop's old Charger like we used to do when we were in high school.  
Had there not been an empty chair next to the bed I think I would have hit the floor. I reached out afraid to touch him, afraid it wasn't real, that he'd scatter in the proverbial wind as soon as I touched him. But I had to touch him; I had to know he was real. His hand was a little cold, thinner, paler, but it was there with the same crescent scar on his knuckles from a fight he helped me out of in grade school. It was Gary, he was alive. I didn't know when I started crying but soon I found myself clutching his hand like a lifeline and sobbing. It took a while for the pain to fade, and my eyes to dry, there were so many things I wanted to say to him, things I needed to say.  
The door opened behind me, turning I faced a petite old lady with hair as pale as the white scrubs she wore.

"Oh I didn't see you there honey. I haven't seen you visit Gareth before."

"He's my brother; I didn't know he was here ;til a few hours ago. Uh, what are you doing?" I asked as she started for the needles in his arm. What if she was one of those psychotic nurses that inject air into patients IV's? I couldn't lose Gary like that, I wouldn't allow it.

"Just checking on his bandages and morphine levels is all sweetheart," it was her smile that kept me seated. A warm and gentle smile that held no sinister curve to her lipstick covered lips, and true to her word that was all she did.

Great I'm overreacting.

"He may be asleep hon but try talking to him. He may be able to hear you, and it'll help to soothe his mind," she said before pushing a rather weary cart out with her.  
It took a moments time for me to abide her suggestion. I didn't know what to say but I figured in the end it didn't matter.  
"It's been a while since I saw you... I wrote you every day, and whenever I could in Basic training. I wonder if you ever got those letters at all. Heh, I don't blame you for not writing back, I deserve it after all."

"Remember when we were little and you used to always be there for me? No matter how many times I told you to go away or that I hated you? Remember that Gary?" I paused, drawing in a shaky breath. "Like that one time when I slashed Joe Finch's tires and they were gonna beat me to death had you not shown up? God how you tore them a new one Gareth, even though I was in the wrong you stood by me and I never understood why."  
"No matter what you were there for me, I'm sorry for hating you, for all those things I said, I was stupid just please Gary... p-please wake up."  
For a moment I thought everything I said was wasted, that he didn't hear anything and I was simply talking to myself.

I felt something moving in my hands.  
I looked down at his cold hand that was still encompassed in mine. It moved, more like a subtle twitch to close his hand around mine.  
Like he understood.  
At least it was something.

* * *

so sorry its not in garys pov yet, i know y'all are sick of the OC's and thank you to my lovely beta!

Eh so, sorry its short, and late. I originally had this chapter and the next all planned out and ready to write, but never got it down on paper before a trip to Ireland and since then its had me thinking on where im headed with this story, and well I haven't been able to think clearly (err jumbled actually) my mind doesn't race with all these thoughts and scenarios for that story anymore and that's just a problem ive got to fix, sorry if this chapter sucks or anything akin.


	15. NOTICE!

So... you may think this is an update but it isnt... just a notice. I want to take the time and thank all of your favoriters/followers/reviewers really you guys are amazing and i love you.!

as far as my writing goes well a lot of just general stress and drama that i cant seem to shake my head out of long enough to update, so i just want you guys to know i am so extraordinarily greatful for putting up with me and i do plan to update...i just dont know when, my life is chaos right now and i just need to focus on it til i can have a clean mind to write again. Sorry and lots of love to you all! 108 reviews! its crazy i love you!


	16. Apathy

He sat.

The wheelchair had grown icy to the touch after sitting so long out in the cold. Rain poured from swollen nimbus clouds, most of it gathered in puddles where vehicles trafficked often on base and also where the concrete flooring of the buildings met the dirt.

No one had noticed he was out here; after all it was nearly two in the morning.

But he'd needed to get out, to breathe; it was all so suffocating at times he wondered if it'd ever change. Some logical part knew it would, but that didn't change how it felt to him.

He couldn't even walk for fucks sake.

Sure the femur had healed, his knee was another story. He was tired of being asked 24/7 how he felt. If he was okay.

Of course he wasn't fucking okay, it'd take and idiot not to see it yet they still asked.

So here he sat.

In the cold, in the rain, just being nothing for a moment.

Not Gary, not Roach, not a number, he was nothing, and he was glad to be nothing, even if for a moment or two.

He wanted a cigarette bad, Soap and Price were smoking often when they came to visit him and it'd made him crave them. His doctor however was on to him and had found his stash of Kool's he'd convinced Smoke to bring him. He was sure the only reason the guy hasn't been bringing him more packs was the fact that Ghost could be very persuasive.

A part of him was a bit jealous of the other Sergeant, like he'd been replaced and forgotten, but the white haired man was too much of a doofus to hold a grudge on. But Ghost had told him he was only so socially awkward because his head was nothing but scrambled eggs. He hadn't understood that remark till he'd talked to Yankee, a very stubborn southerner, who'd told him that it was Ghost's fault and the man had taken a crowbar to the head.

It was strange at first, so many new faces, while most old ones were six feet under. It was something that was difficult to adjust to when he'd been gone for so long. A year was hard time to make up. But he'd adjusted; Smoke's awkwardness was one of the main factors for this.

Gary hardly remembered the first few months since his rescue. But then again he didn't really remember much after Liana, something for which he was glad for. Things would be easier to move on with if people would let them. But with the weekly psychologist visits and physical examinations it was starting to wear on his mind. They'd hinted at things he wasn't sure he'd forgotten or even wanted to remember. But curiosity also ate at him.

And it was seriously pissing him off.

He stayed out until the sun had started to rise and the base had shown its first few signs of life. Doc threatened to chain him to the bed if he'd found out he had wandered off again. They'd restrained him once when he had been a little too doped up to cooperate with what they wanted, something about adjusting the rod in his leg, he'd blacked out when he found he couldn't move. Sure they swore up and down they wouldn't restrain him ever again after he'd awoken very sore and very drugged the next day, but deep in his bones something terrified him about not being able to move. He'd summed it up to the time gap of arriving at some prison camp and waking up in a hospital bed eight months later. Somewhere in the last two of those months he'd been back in good hands but he didn't remember. He was too sick, too broken, too everything to really have some semblance of consciousness during that time.

Apparently Liem had spent a week at his side before shipping out, and when his little brother managed visits they'd hit it off like old times and Gary didn't really feel too numb afterwards.

At the moment though emotions weren't the only things going numb, and Gary wheeled himself back into the recovery hall.

It was a really ugly place, lots of old lady wallpaper and froufrou; too much in fact he was starting to feel like his masculinity was dying by the hour.

It was little old Terry who'd caught him rolling in and she talked his ear off about how much he shouldn't roll off by his lonesome, and he'd be the death of her. He'd just smiled at that and asked how her grand kids were doing, effectively distracting her. When he rolled into his room shed stopped talking, he was tiered. He'd refused the walker, it reminded him of an old person, but he'd settled with the generic hospital issued cane. He couldn't walk much, his left leg was too ruined to bear much weight and the other was just too weak after ring bedridden for so long.

Terry watched carefully as he'd struggled out of the chair, much of his former strength was gone, he'd lost down to 110 lbs during captivity, another ten went to infections he'd gotten after shoulder surgery he now had an array of nasty surgical scars on his pectoral and bicep . But he'd gained nearly fifty pounds since then. He was by all means still scrawny, still didn't look like himself. But he could lift weights soon if he'd gained twenty more pounds and if his shoulder didn't give him problems. For now though, things would be a struggle. He'd sucked in a sharp breath as he was forced to extend his bad knee it was like fire shooting up his leg but he did it. He was still awkward with the cane but Terry had caught him when he stumbled and let him manage on his own to the bed. Knowing it was something he'd need to do on his own. She turned off his lights once he got settled and told him shed make sure no one would disturb his sleep.

It was late in the afternoon when he'd woken. His stomach was cramming from hunger and his back was sore from laying down so much. He could also smell cigarettes, and boy did he want one.

"You hungry mate?" Soap had asked when he turned to him. He was sitting next to the door with an ashtray balanced on one leg.

"Yea, what's in the caf?" Gary asked sitting up and rubbing a hand over his nearly bald head. After having lice and matted hair for so long he'd developed an aversion to hair. Liem had given him an Air Force beanie that was dark navy with the small emblem on the front; he wore it often to help with the cold. He went to grab it off the nightstand next to his bed but it wasn't there.

"You seen my beanie?" He asked Soap slightly panicked, who was getting up now. The ashtray on the floor under the chair, smoking lightly.

"In the drawer, your nurse washed it," he paused looking at the wheelchair while Gary slipped on the hat pulling the sides down to cover his ears. His brothers little visits and gifts had helped well, but at the same time John had noticed Gary had an almost unhealthy attachment to the beanie and bracelet his brother had given him, the thin man was hardly seen without the items now. Doc had said it was like a security blanket for Gary and to just let the man be with the items.

"You want the chair?" Soap had asked unsettled by the pained look on the Sergeants face as he struggled out of bed and onto his feet, leaning heavily on the cane.

"Yea," Gary panted after a moment of stumbling over to the other side of the room where Soap was. He'd pushed the chair where it would be easier to sit in for Gary but otherwise left the man alone. More than once Gary had snapped when they helped him too much, said he'd needed to do it on his own if he was ever going to get better.

He was sweating lightly and his cheeks were flushed by the time he'd settled in the chair and wheeled it away from the wall.

"You want a coat or you plan on going without a shirt?" Soap smirked leaning against the door frame.

"Toss me a shirt will you?" He asked pointedly at the dresser that was closer to him than it was Gary. He picked out a ridiculous tye-dye short sleeved shirt and passed it to Gary with a grin.

The other man held up the shirt with a frown before shrugging it on.

"You're such a dick," he told him as they made their way out of the room.

Soap just laughed.

His stomach was growling as he made his way into the cafeteria. It was loud with men strewn about the buffet and long tables. He spotted Ghost at one of the far tables where most of the higher ups sat. Soap usually got his food for him, something he wasn't all too proud about but grateful for at the same time.

"Hey Wheels," Ghost said in greeting, his mask off and a full plate of potatoes and fried chicken in front of him, untouched.

"You should really stop calling me that," he smiled back as he rolled to the end of the table.

Simon just laughed and handed him a strip of chicken while they waited for Soap to return with food.

He'd brought him mashed potatoes and steak, Gary thanked him quickly for it and ate. He was often hungry and could eat large amounts of food quickly in one setting, he'd finished and gotten himself a can of ginger ale by the time his friends had finished their meals.

"I still can't figure out where you put all that food Wheels." Ghost had smirked.

"Ghosts making fun of me again," he whined to Soap who in turn cuffed the back of the Englishman's head in turn.

"Such a bugger," Simon complained rubbing the back of his head with a smile; Gary just laughed at the both of them.

* * *

Physical therapy was both equally enjoyed and hated. Sure he was started on low weights today, but it was a bitch when they made him walk. Everything in him lit up with white hot pain when he put weight on his leg, the other wobbled and was weak.

"Try it without the cane, there's a possibility you can regain proper use in it," a nurse had told him. She was new and he hated her instantly when shed held his cane out of reach; making him walk for it.

Luckily though Doc showed up, not the same Doc he knew before everything went to shit, but a different, he was Asian and he knew Gary's physical capacity at the moment so the two got along well. He'd kicked her out of the weight room when he'd walked in finding Gary barely on his feet and struggling to get within grabbing distance of the cane, furious.

He let him rest after that, opting to have him press a bar than do anything further with his legs. It took two hours before he was done and his body was shaky but it felt good to lift weights again. Smoke was waiting for him when he came out of the room, his left ear was more or less missing but it gave the pale haired man a tougher look. He reminded Gary so much of a Jack Frost doppelgänger it was something Ghost had joked with him about.

"Hey man, how'd it go?" he asked when he spotted Gary.

"Good, what's up?"

"Shepherd wants to talk to you."

Gray groaned loudly earning a smirk from the younger man.

"What does _he_ want?"

"Something about making a statement for official documents, I think…"

They ended up in the Intelligence Center Gary had never really paid much attention when he'd been there before his capture so he'd ended up rolling around until someone he recognized told him where to go.

Now he sat in a conference room, a recorder on the table in front of him and a file in front of the reporter from Congress, Shepherd stood of to the right of the man arms crossed across his rather adorned uniform.

"Please state your full name, age, and rank," the fat man asked.

"Gareth Gabriel Sanderson, twenty six, Sergeant."

"You are aware of charges you could face if information was leaked during your detainment?"

He nodded.

"Please answer with a yes or no for documentation purposes."

"Yes, I am aware."

"How long was your detainment?"

"You know exactly how long it was, you have the damn file," Gary scoffed.

"Please refrain from derogatory words Mr. Sanderson, and again you must answer what we ask for documentation purposes regardless of how much we do or don't know."

"About six months."

"How much of this time do you remember?"

He laughed loudly at that one; he hoped it pissed off the Politicians back home as much as it did the two men in front of him.

"Not very much," he chuckled after a moment.

"Define that for me Mr. Sanderson."

"Really? I'm going to make this clear, there's a lot that I don't remember, when I say that I mean it. That's as defined as its can get so don't waste my time with stupid questions."

"Sanderson there's no reason to get upset," Shepherd warned staring at him with cool blue eyes.

"From your point of view you'd think that, from mine you wouldn't."

"I think we should reschedule this appointment," the fat man had said.

"No shit Sherlock."

"Enough Sanderson, Mr. Dene continue," Shepherd was glaring now.

"Were you tortured?"

"Yes," Gary said slowly now slightly nervous.

"Would you discuss the methods here or would you rather disclose with an agent later?"

"Later."

"Did you disclose any information during torture?"

"I-I'd like to think I didn't, but like I said there's a lot that I don't remember, so there's the possibility."

"You are aware you may appear on mass media and news productions, are you aware that you are not obligated to cooperate with, and are not to release _any _information regarding your detainment that has not been okayed to release."

"Okay."

"You are aware that you represent one of the most elite military teams of the United States, and are a direct example of both Special Forces and Marines. You are expected to behave as such in interviews, do you understand?"

"Yes, Uh… can I ask you something?"

"Yes?" The fat man looked up from his manila folder.

"Is there a way that you guys could, I don't know…safe guard me from interviews?"

"We can look into it. You are only required to make one official statement though."

"Okay," he was sweating now, his knee was smarting something awful. He wanted to leave.

The fat man was opening his mouth to say something when the door swung open, Soap walked in looking rather stern.

"He can't be kept up this long you do realize," it was rather harsh sounding coming out of his Captains mouth.

"You know better than to interrupt a session MacTavish," Shepherd said more or less enraged but maintaining a formal appearance, probably because the tape was still running.

"Doctor's orders mate, "Soap had replied with a shit eating grin as he rolled Gary out of the room and continued pushing him back to the Infirmary despite his half-assed protests.

"Sorry 'bout that lad your statement isn't to be made official until you're back in the States, Shepherd's just looking to get at me through you, Doc says you haven't been staying in your room at night," he told him when they'd reached his room.

"Can't really sleep," Gary confessed as he took control of the chair and rolled it into the bathroom. He got a glass of water from the sink and grabbed some pain pills he stashed under the sink behind the piping, not visible but not out of reach either.

"You need to tell someone when you're not well mate," Gary just scoffed in turn and took three of the pills.

"Well guess what Capt'n I ain't well okay, just leave it, the last thing I need is more people milling about to my every beck and call." Soap seemed to catch the hint and stopped talking long enough for Gary to shakily stand, but caught him after he'd almost face planted the linoleum after the cane had slipped in the wet tracks left by his wheelchair.

"I've got it," he jerked his arm away embarrassed, he made it into his bed safely though. Taking the tye-dye atrocity off and throwing it towards the dresser with abandon, but he kept the beanie and dark green sweatpants on. His ribs still stuck out though not as much as they had when he first got here, but he was clearly going to take a lot of time and a lot of work until he would really be able to say he was okay again. Soap could still see the dullness in his eyes, the way the young man flinched violently when someone moved too sporadically around him. It was obvious by the bruise like shadows under his eyes that the Sergeant didn't sleep well, the nights he'd stayed by Gary's side he'd known the young man would have a problem with night terrors. Hell Simon still had problems with them on occasion. But he'd acknowledged the fact that they were there and for the most part accepted it and got sleep aids.

Gary just kept fighting everything since he'd gotten back. He'd get snide, he'd get angry, and it was almost as if he didn't feel safe, like he didn't trust. He knew it was partially of wounded pride, guilt, whatever; he could understand that, he'd been around it and had helped others through it at points in his life. He just hoped that when Gary figured things out for himself again, that he didn't push them all away.

* * *

Liem Sanderson is hereby dedicated to my aunts baby Liem (who she misscarried full term ) i kind of psuedo named the little guy too...

So some little things have changed as far as ages and injuries, all necessary to the plot and hopefully dont cause a whole lot of confusion, ill be writing all chapters from now on in third person because its just so much more dynamic and more badass-y looking when the fight scenes come into play :P

So I can't thank you guys enough for hanging in there! My brains still shot as far as memory goes but with much help from LittleDarkDynamite (sorry if I just botched your name Trina) I've been able to grasp what I wanted to do with this story. Also if you guys ever want to talk on a daily basis or ask anything about the story ( and I may give you guys a few surprises along the way)** you can find me on Tumblr, I'm usually on there daily.** You can find me under the name of guild-rat. Or you can PM me. I'm also going to start replying to reviews at the bottom of each chapter ;) again thank you all so much you have no clue how special you are to me!

**Codegirl96:** You have absolutely no idea how much I love you right now. That is literally the best thing anyone has ever told me, and I'm so honored to have been one of your driving forces because in all honesty I was about to quit writing. Thought "yea this is fun but should I really continue?" See I'm very self-critical/defeating at most times which is why I actually started writing to kind of deal with stress (and plus its rather fun once you're on a roll). But Its people like you that make my daily routine worth it, makes me think yea maybe life isn't so repetitive and dull. I can't tell you how many times I read that review when trying to get back to writing. It's by far the most beautiful things I've ever been told so thank you!…wow I probably need some Cymbalta lol.

**xXxFrostBitexXx**: Thanks for hanging in there, hope things are better for you.

**DCNLittle-Girl-13:** Thanks love :*

**DustMan:** You and me both, my brothers are rather physical at times but yours sound slightly jerk-er( I don't know where I was going with that sorry lol) but hopeful this sate your curiosity.


	17. Certamen Animae

_Six months later, December 12, 2014_

_undisclosed location in Chile  
_

* * *

Todd Jennings was a dick. Plain and simple.

He had absolutely no brain to mouth filter and it amazed Gary how the man was even a qualified Psychiatrist.

"You need to remember things Gary," he told him as it were the simplest fucking thing to do.

"Yea well funny thing about dying for periods of time, your brain kind of turns to mush after a while,'' he replied flicking a paper football right into the bastard's cup of joe earning a disappointed look.

"You're acting out Gareth," he'd made a show of putting the cup to the side now that it was pretty much ruined and opened that ugly ass red leather folder he always clung to, adjusting his glasses once again to his beaked nose.

Gary paid him little attention; he'd long since put his music on, heavy metal playing out loud just to piss Todd off. And he now entertained himself with trying to pop wheelies in the small office space. Not caring when he'd backed into the wall chipping the mustard colored paint and putting a dent in plaster. It smelt like burnt lavender from the incense burner that sat on the small metal coffee table that stood between Gary and the other man.

"You hit a fellow soldier in the rec room," he frowned over the thick brown rim of his glasses.

"Shouldn't have opened his mouth." One of them had thought it would be funny to call him Wheels, he'd made it known that he didn't appreciate that little joke anymore. Ghost hadn't called him it in weeks but then again he'd laughed when Soap had told him how Gary had gotten a black eye. He'd thought it was funny that a man in a wheelchair had knocked out a physically capable man. But then again Ghost had a twisted sense of social norms.

"That's no excuse to assault someone Gary," he replied but he was just given an _areyoureallythatstupid_ look from the ex-soldier.

"What's bothering you so much that you feel the need to act out? You were doing so well a few months ago, what_ changed_ Gary?"

He had to ignore him, he had to look away or he was sure he'd break. He couldn't break, wouldn't break, not ever again. It was times like this when Gary wished he didn't remember things. Made him wonder why he didn't just take the sleeping pills he had in his dresser drawer all at once.

He couldn't tell him that every time he closed his eyes he was back in that damn cell, too dark, too alone, too weak. Or that he couldn't breathe when men, larger than him, got close to him anymore. It'd been slowly progressing since he'd arrived on the base nearly six months ago. Because when they got close he'd feel his hands all over him. That he was so fucking sick of everyone looking at him like he needed their pity and help. If he wanted it, he would ask for it, and he wasn't asking for anything but to be left alone. They wouldn't even give him that.

"The problems not me, it's all you shit heads that won't leave me alone," He was starting to get pissed off.

"We all just want what's best for you."

"And you know what's best for me without my say hmm?"

"Did you take your pills today Gary?" He asked pointedly changing the subject to a topic he'd knew he'd win, Gary wanted to wipe that smile off his face.

"No I haven't."

"You need to take them so your leg doesn't hurt; perhaps that's why you're so angry lately. You're in pain."

"No it's not why I'm angry and they don't work."

"You need to tell people when you're in pain Gary; we can't help you if you don't."

"Ever stop and think that maybe I don't want your help?"

"You can't push everyone away, how are you going to adapt to being back in the world when you can't even tolerate being on base."

"You're an idiot."

"I'm not going to bicker with you Gary, how about we finish up for both our sakes," he flipped the journal closed and stood. "I'll talk to your doctor and see if you can't get a new prescription, in the meantime have a nice Christmas and try to be civil please." He said not caring whether or not Gary heard him. Gary made it obvious he could care less, for he was already beginning to wheel out the door and back into the recovery ward figuring he'd go use the cane for a while per Doc's orders. He was really getting sick of that damned wheel chair.

He'd grabbed a few bottles out from his dresser and took one of the Vicodin, just one. Soap had found he'd just hide his pills instead of taking them except for on his visits, and had them removed in fear that Gary was stashing them to take them all at once. He didn't know that Gary was afraid he'd get addicted to the painkillers and anxiety pills if he took them regularly, so he'd let Soap think what he wanted.

Christmas hadn't changed much about the way Gary felt about the season. His family was never big on bonding and his parents thought they could buy their sons love in their custody battle when he was growing up. If anything it'd just brought him and Liem closer. He didn't have any reason to celebrate the season, his father was long since dead, and although he knew his mother knew he was alive but he'd made sure she couldn't contact him. Only Liem, who was in Afghanistan now on his second tour. He'd have to remember to get him a gift.

Most of the people he'd come to know on base had left for a mission a few days ago, or got the holiday off and were with their families. But the ones that remained were smiling and laughing with one another like setting up a makeshift Christmas tree was the greatest thing on earth. All he could think about was the sour taste in his mouth and that empty dead part deep inside.

For a moment that cold numbed him completely, he could still hear and feel but at the same time he didn't. His knee wasn't even exploding in pain when he stepped fully on it not quite adjusted to the cane.

"Gary?" It was Ghost. He was dressed in sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a dark blue long sleeved underarmor that clung to every muscle on his upper body, his hair was so black in the light that it looked almost blue and contrasted dramatically with his pale eyes. Right now Gary wanted nothing more than to avoid those eyes because he could tell they saw the dullness in his own, the smile slipped from his lips.

"What?," he'd answered with a stony look on his face, coming to lay in one of leather the love seats placed in a U formation, Ghost had his laptop in his lap and sat cross legged on the floor across from him.

"You feeling alright, you look a bit pale?"

"I'm always pale Ghost."

The look on Simon's face clearly stated that he didn't believe him, but he'd still turned away and continued to type on his laptop.

They were the only ones in the room for a good three hours, most of which Gary spent sleeping.

It was nice until Shepherds new Task Force got done with training, the door swinging open and booming voices had startled him awake. He'd found his white T-shirt clung to his frame and there was a clammy sweat covering his skin, his cane lying just out of his reach. Ghost wasn't anywhere in sight and that made Gary a little bit uncomfortable, sure he hadn't made any effort to communicate with him but he didn't feel safe without Simon in sight.

He'd found Shepherds new toys, Shadow Company, to be an array of blithering idiots and assholes with a few decent people in it. He'd also found out that Smoke had been transferred to the squad a few weeks after his rescue and was waiting to heal before being operative yet again and if he wasn't mistaken he was sure the other man was somewhere in the Ukraine about now. Still though most of the other faces on the team were still new to him.

"It smells like fucking cinnamon in here, I hate cinnamon!" One complained by the pool table behind him, three others took up the remaining couches and glared when they'd found Gary had the remote.

"Hey man turn on the T.V. will you?" The rat faced one said sitting on the opposite love seat.

"You can just have the remote; any of you seem Ghost around?" He tossed the device to the man, sitting up stiffly to sit, his good leg barely able to reach the cane and drag it close.

"That creepy Brit with the mask?"

"The one and only."

"Outside by the showers I think."

Gary groaned inwardly. It was snowing out and his clothes still damp from his sleep, but he couldn't resist the need to see Simon. He could feel the slow building panic attack coming on, he would have normally stayed with Soap but the man was visiting his girlfriend back in Scotland, from what Ghost had told him she was good for John and that part gave Gary some piece of mind.

He was shivering when he'd made it to the the brick building that served as the base showers. Snow gave him an odd feeling now, it reminded him of that damn camp but yet at the same time, he just wanted to stand in it forever. To just let it cover him as it fell in delicate tufts to the Earth. What he wouldn't give to be numb once more.

There was a lake visible past the showers and he could spot a running trail to the side of it, fresh mud and ruts in it from training. It was mesmerizing how quiet it was just watching the snow in thick fluffy tufts, fall and collect on the sand and grass trees were very sparse and not natural to the terrain. He was positive the only trees were a few apple blossoms near the bunkers and infirmary.

Light spilled behind him and he turned sharply to see a man silhouetted in the doorway.

"The bloody hell are you doin' out 'er?" Ghost asked him.

He blinked, turning back to the lake.

"You think if I slept out here that I wouldn't wake up tomorrow?"

"_THE FUCK?_ What-No! Gary get the hell in 'er have you gone _mad_?!" Suddenly Ghost was pulling him into the locker room; steam from the showers had fogged the mirrors and the warm humid air made his hands burn.

"Take that off you're soaked, the hell haven't you already froze to death your hands are nearly blue," Ghost fussed sitting him on a bench and pulling at his shirt that clung to him. Now that he mentioned it, he was cold. Very cold.

"W-wwhat are you doing?" His teeth were chattering loudly.

"Making sure you don't freeze to death." He came walking back with a new pair of sweats and one of his green underarmor shirts.

"Here put these on," he handed the clothes over "What the hell were you thinking standing out in the snow, and why would you ask me that Gary?" He stood off looking very concerned.

"I don't know."

"You seem to not know a lot of things Gary, I think you're lying through your teeth you know," He chided.

"I don't want to be here anymore."

"Here as in the base or alive?"

"Both," he felt guilty and had to stare at his feet.

"Why?"

How could he tell him that it was his fault men would _die_ in the coming years? That he'd remembered nearly everything at the camp that didn't involve that damn white room and he was rather positive he'd said things he shouldn't have? That he'd been fed up with and let down by everyone including himself. Including Ghost. That inside it was like a void. Something they thought they could fix, bar up long enough and all the bad and all the guilt would just go away and he'd be better. But it was so much more than a void, so much more. A void had boundaries and space and meaning behind it. This was more of a black hole, it could never be barred up because it would always suck everything good up and leave him with nothing. It was infinite.

They could never fix him, only he could fix himself. Only he could forgive himself, and he was more than sure he'd never be able to do that.

How could he tell Simon all of that? He barely understood it himself.

"It's not something anyone can fix," He admitted.

Ghost smiled sadly at him, like he knew exactly what Gary felt like more than he knew himself. Suddenly he found himself pulled into a hug, which was a lot coming from Simon since said man was more unsociable and distant than himself. It felt nice though.

"You're not going to be the same as you were before all this, I know others are expecting the old you but they'll realize that you've changed now. It's not a bad change. Not really, you're stronger now I know you get scared a lot but it'll go away eventually. You'll learn how to adjust to it all Gary, it's going to take a lot of time, but you need to not worry about what people expect from you and just worry about yourself and your wants and needs now okay?" He held his face between his palms and was looking at him seriously now.

"If you need to leave here, if you need to leave us, do it and don't look back okay. And don't let me catch you standing in the bloody snow like a git."

"Thanks Ghost," Gary said sounding surer of himself though he still felt like his voice was going to give in at any moment.

"Come on I'm starving and you need to eat too, we can do mail call after if you'd like also. You've got quite the buildup of letters."

* * *

Dinner had been good, despite the pulsating pain in his knee he'd managed to eat two platefuls of potatoes and turkey. He'd long since warmed up after reaching the cafeteria, Ghosts clothes hung on his frame but not by much he'd gained up to 160 lbs. most of which was lean muscle. The beanie was still damp but his hair blocked most of the cold by no means was it long but there was a good inch of light brown hair on his scalp and darker brown hair along his jaw from a few days of not shaving.

"Ready to go sunshine?" Ghost asked grabbing their empty plates as Gary stood up and settled on the sleek matte black cane Soap had given him after complaining at the ridiculous looking cane the Infirmary had given him.

Jey worked in the intelligence center, the Native American man practically lived there and worked days on end without sleep. Now was one of those days and the man was sleeping at his that was overrun with intelligence files and tech. The mail room was just past Jey's office and was manned by a few old ladies.

"Sanderson and Riley," Ghost told one of them, he was pretty sure her name was Mandy.

It was rather surprising to see he had a stack of letters, two large white envelopes, and a small box in Christmas wrappings while Ghost had a few letters himself, and held onto their things as they made their way back out into the snow. It was long since dark out, the snowing had stopped for the time being but it still gave Gary a light chill by the time they'd made it back to the recovery hall. His old room he'd shared with Meat had long since been taken up by Shepherds new soldiers, so he'd been given a permanent room in the recovery ward for as long as he stayed on base. Thinking back on Ghost's words he felt that he'd have to leave the base soon or there would be no improvement to how he felt.

Most of the letters were from Liem along with the gift and he set them aside on his desk to read at a later time. The two larger letters however caught his eye. More like the fat C.I.A. emblem on them.

"What the hell?" he ripped the letter open, Ghost had turned to him and looked rather concerned picking up the envelope he'd tossed on the floor.

"What's it say?"

"They want to see me," he said slowly looking up to meet Simon's pale eyes with his green ones "I don't think I'm ready for that interview Ghost." He really wasn't, sure he could remember things better now. But he wasn't ready to relive them; he wasn't ready to tell anyone what they'd done to him.

* * *

Sassy Gary is so …_sassy_;P

Months Captive: 6

Months Free: 6

thanks to those of you who reviewed and everyone else who checked out the update, things should be picking up here and in case you already haven't noticed some characters will be rather AU along with the plot. along with Gary's age change he's 26 not 22 .Hopefully though you guys still enjoy it I feel a tad risky as to updating because of it, so just let me know if anything confuses you. Some familiar faces coming up in a few chapters! Also a character sheet should be up as soon as I find a free program similar to Photoshop, if anyone knows a program like this please let me know! 

I hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving!

**Replies:**

**Lt. Jay Chiuraya :** Ouch! Glad you're okay that sounds nasty. Two days is crazy, really bad concussion I'm guessing. So glad you love the story! Bahahahahha…grammar skills?! The highest grade I've gotten in English ( and I'm a high school senior) was a C!( Which is weird considering I read and write constantly) I've actually had to retake my freshman year English because I was so bad at it! I don't even know what adverbs or pronouns are! So I find that statement really funny but love it! uhm a great writing inspiration of mine is the Night Angel Trilogy by Brent Weeks.

**Little Dark Dynamite:** Yes! Its official! I do exist again! And thanks for letting me talk your ear off all the time about the story!

**xXxFrostBitexXx:** So glad you love the story! You're defiantly keyed into Gary's thoughts, lots of complicated feelings he's not sure how to deal with.


	18. Haywire

Soap hadn't returned as he'd said he would two days after Christmas. Or even a week after that. In fact Ghost had informed him that the Captain wouldn't be back until sometime after New Year's. It was stressful to Gary seeing as he wouldn't be at base but instead being interrogated by the C.I.A. by Soap's return. He would have at least of liked to say his goodbyes to the man but at the same time it was one less awkward situation he'd have to face.

He'd been told more than once to talk or not stare off into space by the other men. He didn't care to socialize but he must have been too self-isolating to get Ghost concerned.

In truth he'd been avoiding Ghost, it wasn't that the man ever asked him questions or brought up topics to discuss, far from it actually. Gary just couldn't bear to be around anyone anymore. That didn't go without saying that he'd cut ties with Liem, if anything they wrote and sent each other gifts like mad men. His baby brother had no problem excelling in his squad. He'd even been considered for transfer under Admiral Briggs. He had yet to get a letter back from Soap on what exactly Liem would be facing but from what he'd gotten out from Shepard's men the guy ran top security missions. Liem would likely be part of the bomb squad or some field tech operator if he'd had to guess.

There was a knock on his door and Gary could guess it was Simon telling him he needed to come out and eat.

Nonetheless Gary just sat on the corner of his bed staring out the open window. There was a good three feet of snow on the ground; it should have looked pristine, unblemished, and innocent, soft even, but it just looked like Siberian tundra with flecks of dirt and blood to him. Sinister and capable of taking both limb and life. The Mess Hall used to be warm and joking in atmosphere but now was claustrophobic and too many voices, everything was now.

"Gary let me in," Simon said softly.

_Gary let him in. Let him in then kill him._

"Shut up," he told the German in his head.

His heart raced as the urge to actually do what it wanted slowly wore off. It'd been clear to him these past few weeks that he'd never really left Russia, and Dietrich never really left him.

He really had no understanding to the times Simon would wander around with blood-lust in his eyes and a short temper. Or when he screamed in his sleep. Now he was beginning to see, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to be as strong as Ghost. He wasn't even sure if he'd be able to get out of the feeling of motions and feel alive again.

"Gary I know you're ignoring me, open the door mate." Reluctantly Gary got his cane from where it hung on the bedframe and turned away from the window, unlocking the door and cracking it knowing Simon would open it fully for himself if he'd wanted to.

"What do you want?" He asked sourly as he sat on his bed. The cool air was on his back now and chilled him through his thermal shirt.

"Don't sound so snippy, I'm wondering why you haven't left your room for nearly a week. Whats with you?"

Gary flat out ignored the question. He was sick of hearing things like "What's with you?" and "How do you feel?"

"Why's Soap late?" he changed the subject.

"You'd know if you left your room now wouldn't you? He's and Sarah are having a baby, he's staying longer for their families to celebrate before he leaves again. Now what the bloody hell is wrong with you Gary why won't you leave your room?"

"Does it really matter what I do? You're a grown man, yet I don't concern myself with what you do."

"Don't get cross with me you know you've got an awful big stick up your arse as of late mate."

"Funny that could go both ways _mate_."

"What's wrong with you, seriously."

"You wana know what's fucking wrong with me? I'm tired of feeling like I'm fucking crazy, that's what."

"You're not crazy Gary." Ghost frowned at him from against the wall.

He just laughed. It was a mean cold laugh.

"And how the hell would you know Simon? How the fuck would you know what's in my head?" He jammed a finger towards his temple as his hands shook with new found rage.

"It'll get better you know, I don't know what you're dealing with but Roba faded, he's not gone but he's not a problem. It will change Gary you just got to find yourself."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you need to leave Gary, and don't look at me like that. You sit in your room all day sulking when you could be out. You have no right to complain about others treating you like glass when you're doing the same."

_Kill him Gary. See how much he hates you, kill him for it._

"Get out."

"Why? Mad that someone told ya to balls up and stop acting like a little priss? You 'ave no fuckin' idea how easy you've got it 'er." Ghost mocked back seeming equally mad as his accent became thick.

"Shut up" Gary grabbed his cane and before he knew it hurled it at Ghost, the man had to move out of the way to avoid being hit. Next was the desk lamp, and then were the bottles of sleeping pills before Simon just slammed the door shut.

_You've done it now Gary, should have just killed him, but no. What a disappointment you are I tell you one thing you do another. Makarov should have let me kill you._

" SHUT UP! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Gary growled twisting his hands into his hair and pulling until it felt like his scalp was bleeding, curling in on himself despite the sharp pain in his leg.

"Just leave me alone." He sobbed.

_What fun would that be to me?_

* * *

You guys have no idea how bad I want to turn Gary and the voice in his head into the "Precious"/Sméagol interactions…who knows, maybe I will :P

Again sorry about the delay and shortness of this chap. I had finals and headaches(I usually get really sleepy when I get these headaches its weird) so yea haven't really been on a writing surge :P How was everyones holiday?

**Junkieoctober**: There's going to be much more of simon and gary interactions! Thanks for the update and so happy you like the story!

**xXxFrostBitexXx:** I LOVVVEEE THE SNOW ALSO! Except when my feet get wet. Hahah interesting you spotted the out of order-ness/ reason to Garys letter reading, it should come up again later on but Liems letters help relax Garys mind so he reads them when hes alone and has no one to really to distract

**LittleDarkDynamite:** uhhhm it was supposed to be latin and translate to "contested soul" but looking back on it it translates to "contest aroused"


End file.
